I.
  fishbones glitter
when placed in the sun
  I've been wondering why they don't just trace a line
   that says (cut) here

II.
   this morning,
I woke up (yet I thought I was dead)
  and found dreamsandbloodandbrains
compressed into the bedsheets
   my first time dealing with magic

III.
    you remind me of myself
when I was nineteen and a wallflower
  twisted right off of the paper
  paper thin
is a metaphor for
          (anorexia)

IV.
    fold your paper dreams away
and (go) buy a globe
hang onto your skeletons, boys
   this is the age of saprogenicty
and anticonvulsants

V.
   didn't your mother tell you
not to play with those God forsaken jawbreakers?
sure they look awfully to die for in the latest shades
of (rotten) cotton candy and (larynx) red
  but as they say, they're
narcotics to your soul

VI.
    I've broken another promise
today, and only just because.
you wrinkle your nose, cause really now,
  everybody says that

VII.
    when you (touch) me
you can feel the depressions with your fingertips
no silly,
  not dysphoria
(I'm talking about the sinkhole that defines you+me)

VIII.
        My breath kicked in at about....
some ungodly hour o'clock.
  ever wonder why they call it ungodly?
perhaps-- because when the sun sets
    our paper kings and queens come
         tumbling with it

IX.
     Mama wrote me a letter (today)
I even cut out the tears and tucked them
  into my locket
she's out there somewhere, lying amongst the clouds
(maybe in Poland) and I just want her to know
I'm really sorry I couldn't tuck your cancer away

X.
   the variable for love
or something like it
  well, I've never been able to figure that problem out
   explains the lack of luck in these areas

XI.
    if I could cut out my heart and bring it to the repair shop
(well)
I most certaintly would,
   'cause afterall, who  wants to live when you're never anything
      but broken

XII.
     the bathwater feels awfully cold today
let's blame it on the fan, and how I left it on
to keep away the sunstains, but only enough
   so that I couldn't             up
                            g r o w     and blow away

XII.
     the swedish lullabies, they always work best, no?
I fear that the time between birth and (post) punk
   has collided
    now I'm shoegazing, skin scraping
blistering hearts with a cherry velvet
     tongue.