Stillness

Still. So still. Never still.

Stiff.

Shaking my soul out of my skin.

Mind jumping ‘round and ‘round.

My head is spinning.

It’s constant.

I can’t stay still. Terrible reminder.

Death is stillness, and I’m the movement.

My heart trembles my soul struggles my mind crumbles.

Cold flesh under thin skin, what a fragile little toy. You like being weak and you like being coy.

Poison ivy will give you some color.

Look at you little toy, not sane enough to be a girl, not strong enough to be a boy.

Niacin heats you up baby gives you those nice tingles.

Can’t get them anywhere else, eh?

Ugly little duck.

Stupid fucking whore.

You tasted like venom.

Your hair felt like plastic, your lips felt like balloons, your skin felt like rubber, your breasts felt like a blur. My tongue followed you, hoping for something real, but everything was fake, miles away, who knows where, I know you don’t, I know you were just as lost as me in your own body. My tongue buried in you and you tasted like venom. You used to taste like lavender. Now you tasted tart.

Your bones so sharp almost bursting through your skin. Every rib trying to fight its way out. Trying so hard to feel close to you, to feel any connection, any love, any desire, any tenderness, anything. Trying to look into the void you’ve become.