Sunday, March 21, 2010

a bottle

passed in circles

like the whore that she is.

she's disgusting by nature

so she puts on her face

in a fancy bottle

to imitate happiness

that we can hold in our hands.

she glosses her lips

and deodorizes her stench

with soda and lime.

she looks so pretty and inviting

though she's so bitter at heart.

the ice that floats around her body

glistens her chill.

who would have thought

that something that shines so bright

could feel so cold?

she freezes our mouths with hers

as we kiss her repeatedly.

she deceives us by burning our throats

like the whore that she is.

she numbs us.


we'd feel the pain

from the glass on her lips.

we forget who we are

or what we're doing

we forget that we hate ourselves.

the only way we can ever look good

is by destroying our livers.

but the beauty is only temporary.

the damage is eternal.

we drop all our cares

and live in the moment

or sometimes

die in the ignorance.

she leaves us with headaches.

every sound we hear

makes us regret even meeting her.

she's so wet

and though we lap up all her juices

we're the ones left with dry mouths.

she makes us feel

as if we matter

so we take all that we can

from her

until she's gone.


yet again

we are left with nobody

but ourselves.

until she's just an empty shell.

until she's just

a bottle.

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