I am your dream
As you unwrap my onion skin layers
bat shit crazy
And that is so in right now
You convince yourself
You can save me.
My brain is a garden that just needs tending to
and your ho is ready to plow me till I bloom
But you see, it's not that cute.
And it's not that simple.
Believe it or not, sex has never been proven
To cure anything but dick envy
Not that I don't always enjoy it,
It's like this time I was drunk tobagganing in high school
Taboozing if you will
I was going so fast, with ice smacking my face but I didn't care because I was so thrilled and hyped on adrenaline
That all I could say was
Please hit me!
That's how I felt last Sunday as I scrubbed the kitchen baseboards till my fingers were raw
And then I didn't get out bed for a week.
The thing about my mental illness is that it is so inconsistent I can't decide whether I am cute or not
I have no conscience thought for weeks and then my brain shows up just in time to remind me of every single mistake I have ever made.
Leaving me with the mental and physical mobility of a beached starfish
A collector's item.
But at least I pretty