Poems from Cyanidemoonpie

I am not the violent type, no ? Can you not see? I see her last breath in her flat chest as she heaves. In the end , why could you not...
I am starved for affection. It's almost self-infliction. Probe me for my thought pattern , it's a mess you see. I am a bundle of nerves...
I put on a Facade like it's makeup . That mirror image haunts me. I'm selling cosmetics for living , and it daunts me. I want to be...