FurVirgo

imagine ripping yourself apart like scraps of newspaper. stuffed. the ancient egyptians, they used to extricate the bodies' organs before filling the husks of skin, then wrapping them like birthday presents. i am a corpse. i can cough and i can drool. i can cut and i can bleed. live, girl, live. little white pills little black box little chipped heart snowy snowy hills ever notice how august feels like november? sluggish and miserable. but what's life got to do with it? (cross-)examine me. i mean it. study me. cure me now. i may be in my room but really there is a fortress and there is a field and i am in t

the sky is crushing me. it's only when i breathe in deeper, with my stomach, when i breathe properly, that i realize i can't breathe at all. and maybe i was wrong. i don't want to die but maybe i do want to disappear. fade away. opinions matter too much; yours, theirs, mine, what the numbers show versus what the mirror shows. what i let myself think - what i let myself believe. i said, if i can't die for them, i'll live for them. tell me, what's the difference between just being alive and actually living? the clouds are giving me a headache. at the risk of becoming a risible cliche spewer, be careful what you wis

K-K-Karma found my name. And wrote it in a book. She plays a twisted game. Got me caught on her hook. Karma, karma. What a- shush. She's playing with my mind. Turning my brain to mush, And acting like she's kind. Candy coated Karma, yikes. A desguised bag of tricks. You take a generous bite So sweet it makes you sick. Karma can't make friends. She lives just like the devil. She haunts you 'til your end. Making death a pleasant travel.

We are alone here in this valley near the sea and it is almost dark and almost quiet, but I can hear someone crying just a few rooms away. She is not so hawk-eyed, not so frighteningly sharp and I am afraid to make her cry, so I lie, I lie. She is a small bird with too-high heels and a nervous laugh; her wings tucked loosely beside her like the bags beneath her eyes. She wears too much make-up, but sometimes that's okay. She compares me to her children and tells me I'm so bright, but I am greasy hair and yesterday's makeup, ragged nails gripping the seams in her worn couch. She is innocent and I am too high to functi