I Watch The Eruptions. Mount Dad, Long

I Open A Paperclip And Scratch It Across The Inside Of My Left Wrist. Pitiful. If A Suicide Attempt Is A Cry For Help, Then What Is This. A Whimper, A Peep? I Draw Little Window Cracks Of Blood, Etching Line After Line Until It Stops Hurting.

They Tied Me Back Together, But They Didn't Use Double Knots. My Insides Are Draining Out Of The Fault Lines In My Skin, I Can Feel It, But Every Time I Check The Bandages, They're Dry.

There Is Something About Christmas That Requires A Rug Rat. Little Kids Make Christmas Fun. I Wonder If Could Rent One For The Holidays.

The Stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking Didn't Make Her Skinny, It Made Her Cry.

Oppressive Bastards, Think They Own The Place. I Told Them That Karma's Going To Kick Their Asses.