comorbidity

suicide fantasy, roach motel. how you gonna get to heaven if you always look like hell? cyanide ice cream, cotton candy nose. whisper quickly before i have to go.

you took me to your cardboard house, mattress on the floor, yesterday's pizza still in the box, half eaten. the sun shone past the tiny kitchen, almost reached your pillow. i sunk too quickly into that beat-up mattress. you automatically reached for a cigarette. we fucked quickly, like you could sense my repulsion through my opaque facade. i thought i hid it well.

a dragon clawed its way across her tiny shoulder, breathing fire for the both of them. i don't know why i took so many pills, do you? i didn't think i would get so sick. their shiny coat deceived me. pangs of guilt shot through my body as i huddled over the toilet. you knew better and i learned and you didn't care when i caught you making love in the living room. mine makes better music i half-sneered, afraid the truth would sink in a little deeper. you saw through my lies but never stopped casting suspicious looks my way. i pressed my back against that cold bedroom door and smoked away my soul.

i think i got played. i looked into your eyes a second too long and went blind again. another lover who's not a friend. maybe i don't want my heart to mend. i'll never outrun the pesticide spray but without you by my side i just might be okay.