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reading the scriptures of my destruction First in line for the book signing with your goons Do they know you ride my name so hard you get headaches? Writing newspaper articles "Body tea but she’s kind of insane" Doing interviews Cameras in your swollen face from all the vodka drowning out the thought of my lips

Sometimes I wake up so blue I can’t breathe Stress hives up my neck Don’t pick them or they won’t love me anymore So debilitated by my mind I don’t get up sometimes Not when I’m playing whack a mole with the miscreants of my past I’m a psychological threesomed torture with the two of you

I used to be rather kind with the tapestries I made Until the nightmare blunt rotation of lacerations made me into something else I’m arachne A creation of all the pride and weaving Trying not to hang myself from all the myths