Hey, I Want to Die

May 2015

pretty boy, kissing me,

lemonade and a snow white dream

i don’t smell her on his collar

but i can see the blood

a hazy, late drive home

breaking silence, treading mud

i climb my way straight up you

up, up to the top

at the tallest point,

i can hear the lightning shock

if i could cut you open

can you tell me what i’d see?

if it’s not a wishbone,

it isn’t you, it isn’t me