you dream of
being anorexic
of glamor and
speed
and the bitter taste
of bleach
and i want a
shotgun
and a house in
the country
the promise of
immortality
and i laugh when
you put the knife to
your wrist
when you put your
hands through
the bedroom window
i either bruise you
or ignore you
and you always beg
for more
in love like a
bad top forty song
and i’ll let you be
an addict
if you let me be
a failure
just show me
that smile
