dinacorn

i am not in love but i would watch all tv day if you were on the screen

this crisp september tiptoes; she'll breath icicles coyly, up into the corners of my window pane maybe like she doesn't mean it, or she does, her delicate digits grasping lightly to the trim, arranged as a fawn's bashful hooves. a quiet girl a cold girl but she knows to touch my arm when we walk down the street and to look into my eyes when i speak her pupils a puppydog  tear full of but do you love me now? we never do much, to touch; to be breathy and giggles and to let a bit of warmth flush through her blood vessels, i never think she is capable of that. to be in her is to tryst in fragile porcelain her peachfuzz

she was just like this... this.. gah. dreamy lady like she's made of applesauce and marmelade and she just looks so sticky and delicious ghod i know it isn't okay to fall in love on public transport but baby did you know what goddamn beautiful hands you have? with that chippy peach nailpolish just ethereally whisping through my panoramic view long mermaid hair and cheeks like a nectarine pie with double-whip coolwhip topping you darling were my savior in this world haven't you ever seen someone and this thick clear image of them socks you in the fucking nose of your fucking beautiful life together after 5 years of dating and

scathe me your spitfire, that awful decay i need it, melt my flesh away i want to see my backbones bubble and let me f-f-ffeel that fFFuCCK you in my throat like a punch. i will the blood stuck in my gums never to dry suck my teeth and beg for m-Mmore crack my ribs and let me flow out like pudding ,i don't want your dulcet word to lick my wounds that kind of elloquence should be reserved for a girl who can't be so cruel her heart isn't worms her soul, not the satan. pit. i want the hot anxious vomit to scald my throat when you shreik my sins what i don't want to hear i need to hear i need the wracking sobs to r

you're all too happy, to kiss my lips if only you could see how my insides   spoil,     fes-ter; oh, the plastic veneer spans the feet, the legs,     then tummy,                       ribs,                             breasts,                                          face, disguises how this really goes, my rosy-cheeked, charming darling, you're not about to ask what happens when you turn your pretty neck so much blood, and it never washes clean i lament. my soul just oozes and cries huddled in the corner, dressing a dead rat in baby doll's clothing my walls just drip and peel, rusting, rotting, how do you see a

you fascinate me, ferile, claws out shrieking in the treetops i want to keep you banshee, banshee, to trap you under a teacup to stick my lips down near and whisper through the porcelain hot breath pearling up on the side i want to say "stay with me" but your trees keep me here, away in concrete, in molded, in my corrugated steel i see the beauty in your wilderness contours tracing the scratches with delicate fingers and would it were me in the nowhere, howling at the moon.