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

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