atelophobia//purgatory

I’ve been saving my baby teeth

and a lock of my hair from when it still

held curls

in a box in my basement, hoping

I could someday rebuild a former me.

But I’m not god and I never will be.

A former me

without your ugly lipstick tattooed on my

teeth

and hair still drenched in your

finger grease.

But I’m not god and I never will be.

I’M NOT GOD AND I NEVER WILL BE.

I’m f*****g

overindulgent and

lazy.

Narcissistic,

jealous and

f*****g angry.

I’m the poster boy for burning alive.

Even two bottles of red wine

won’t wash down my pride.

And I can’t grant you forgiveness.

I won’t even try.

.

Heaven is being run by Satan

and no one is complaining.

Hell is that cheap motel with the vacancy sign that isn’t lit well

enough to see past the flames in your head that are blazing.

And god is looking to sell.

.

Jesus died for his own bullshit but

I want to be more than that.

.

So now I have cigarette burns not

wedding rings.

Second thoughts not

best friends.

Now I sleep dry in my clothes and not

soaked in cotton.

On rooftops not

bed sheets.

From up here I can watch the entire city

and I’m kissing concrete for every sin I see.

It’s a trust fall and no one’s catching me.

But at least

I know

that the stars would

if they could reach.

Author's Note

feedback appreciated!