b R o _ e N s H _ E t S.

Threads undoing theirselves. Another stitch coming undone. The cloth pulling apart, hair falling off and creating new patterns on the broken sheets.

She sobs, wiping the moss away from the crevices of her eyes. Does she scream? Does she cry? She lies inside, finding new ways to hide. In her pre-determind coffin, her confines. The emotions concealed underneath-- red, peeled and moist skin. Hands covering the scars, the outside miscolored and uneven with freckled holes.

As she strings shaky fingers through her tortured scalp, desperate locks fall effortlessly to the ground. They curl up, lifeless and lost. A broom sweeping and stealing her beauty away, empty and lonesome, she lays.

Her arms are decorated in sunken gashes. She picks away as the bugs land. The salty tears drop as she scratches, dead skin and blood pouring down, carrying the stench of fear. Hidden paranoia and effortless addiction.

She empties her head, letting the spiders crawl under her bed and over her wrists. She takes a hit and the poison flies, butterfly wing soaring to life. She makes love with the color and laughs in chokes. Letting metal swipe over her skin to stop the dreaded moments flying within the smoke. The blood runs in an effort to end the seconds ticking without dope.

They lost her, found her later wrapped up in the bedding. Smoke clinging to the room, cheap drugs spread over her mouth and limbs. Burned herself out inside her secrets, hidden under the sheets without a trace.

They screamed, yellow teeth and eyes left wide open. The blood spilling over a moist pillow. That was the end, body rotten and life wasted. Beautiful girl, so insecure and allowed to be coated in disaster. Artificial pleasure and life never work together. The first contender always comes out the champ.