I want to be believed in
Held close like a small dead animal
Worried over like a bastard step child.
And I don’t fall down for followers
And I don’t bleed for bandages
I work my skin ‘til it burns
like your eyes
On this sunny summer afternoon.
All my fingers count the folds in my promises
All taken
And put away
Like pocketed raisins.
My teeth hurt
From trying to talk about you
With everyone just making faces behind my back.
Burdens this heavy tend to weigh you down
Like your family tree
Or your bad genetics.
I washed my hands of you this morning, come stain me again tonight…
