For the sake of vanity, beauty lies insane.
Another laceration lines flesh like cocaine,
creating amazing new ways to entertain
the foggy mirror that reflects each tangled vein.
Every night, my razor hits a rosary.
Don't you want to grow up to be just like me?
Empty pill bottles roll around this wooden floor
while taped childish posters rip paint from the door,
and frenetic without medication once more,
I follow the same steep path I've taken before.
Insomnia claims my neurotic debris.
Don't you want to grow up to be just like me?
They're only bodies disguising the taste of sin.
Iron falls from my mouth, dripping down to my chin.
Necrophilia's irresistibility's grin
conquers from the corner of the morgue that I'm in.
It's acceptable if the carcass is free.
Don't you want to grow up to be just like me?
Bitter eyes spin fantasies of deliverance,
which is nonexistent without breaking this trance.
Love's hypnotic, erotic, chaotic last dance
birthed a vile, unhealthy, obsessive romance.
I hallucinate shadows hung from a tree...
Don't you want to grow up to be just like me? |
Submission Name: Role Model
