I'm still here

next time you tell me to fuck off

I’ll probably hide in my shoes

and you’re going to get away with this

so I’ll shit with the door open

and rest my chins on my inflating chest

and keep my eyebrows low

and shuffle through my pointless youth

and smell the exhaust fumes

to remind me of cigarette residue

and I’ll wake up and stare

and feel the edges of the mattress have run away

and the old yellow curtain that never seems to change

we are liers and we like it

but, why? my heart sending me mixed signals

sometime I smile in the mirror just to see if i can feel my body

my mind is slowly shrinking

It just doesn’t do the same tricks

what am i now, not a funnel, but a pencil

I’m the one wearing rope over the heat

as well I should be

there’s no way to justify being me

and I cannot ever end it

she was once there to smile back