Underneath my skin
like a pin prick
growing to a clawing at my insides
I'm thick like tar and
everything is always wrong
words are wrong and
all the bruises collect and collaborate
to hurt me further
Just be perfect
just for a little while
an undirected request
but I need it
The house smells like Christmas
but I feel the cold seeping in
and the lights turning off
I'm like embers;
smouldering but dying
You're doing so well
but there's cracks
and they look like chasms to me
where I can confirm my own worthlessness
and spit venom
whilst I hollow out my soul
You,
and I,
we just need to be perfect for a while.
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