You cannot love me, 
I’m not that type of girl.
I have messy hair & cobwebbed tights,
fragile skin, lips of lust.
I need it gentle,
but get it rough.
I can’t stand this loneliness,
so i’ll settle for less.
I don’t want them,
I’ll let them run.
No care for love,
that’s just another heartache on my back.

You and me reappearing.
Finding me lifeless on the floor,
Pick me up,
Dust me off.
I am yours for the picking,
Ripe and ready.
So I’ll wait and my heart will skip a beat,
I’m brave.
I want this,
Vulnerable, sad but yours.

The girl I was before,
becoming the girl I am now.
They’re no different to each other.
Maybe different shades of color,
Rosy cheeks now sullen skin.
I’ve become a junkie for your love,
and just like any junkie I need my fix.
Morning slumber you’re still on my mind,
Night does more damage.
Just like Neil young,
I see the needle and the damage done.

Life or death…
And I don’t want either.
I’m stuck in limbo where the only thing,
that keeps me alive are my cigarettes & old records.
Vodka eases my pain.
Razors are the same game.
The pills precribed has left me forgetting who I am.
I’m left sullen and empty,
No more dreams to fill this void.
My appetite dispiated and skin so pale.
I am nowhere,
I am nothing.
Death has my number in the post. 
I’m just waiting.

Living on a diet of cigarettes and loneliness.
I roam around the hallways,
limp and lifeless.
I forgot your name,
I forgot my face.
All I see is a stranger in my reflection.
And I’ve lost my appetite,
more so…I’ve lost myself.
I could cough out a lung,
these smokes and mirrors choke me.
I need someone to hold, 
I fear that I could fall off the edge.
But everyone fades,
there is no one left.

Sleepless nights,
your dirty sheets & sweet caress was all I needed.
But empty promises turn into empty hearts,
and hands that were soft became rough,
tender whispers became brutal moans.
I feed off those boys affection,
only to be abused at my weakest.
My bruised, scarred skin of mine,
yours for the taking.
Because I don’t want to try anymore,
All I see is bleakness.
Cut, slip, swollen lip. 
Blood on my legs and dust in my eyes.

Pale skin marked with scar tissue.
I make these marks for you, my sacrifice.
We are bound by these blood ties,
because we have nothing left to give.
Just lies, tears and false hope,
You fooled me once and you fooled me twice.
But I’ve been a bad girl,
I lie down for you, willing and vulnerable.
The blood is on your hands.

I had started to eye sharp objects that surrounded me.
Knives that I used for my dinner, Scissors I used for school work and the smashed bottles on the side of the desolate streets I walked.
Finally I just cracked like a drug addict who hadn’t had their fix, The difference was I wasn’t addicted in the first place.

You are the artist.
The sculptor, who’s hands knead this broken body of mine.
Languid and lonesome,
Do what you wish to me.
I need to be created into something beautiful,
Collect my bones and features for the making.
But don’t leave me like this.
If I can’t be re-made,
I don’t want to be anything at all.

I am the church, 
You are the steeple.
Let’s crash down with all the broken people.

Built with nothing but sticks and stones,
We are fragile.

So they try to rebuild us,
But we can only keep on breaking.

You and me are the lonely ones.