"who do you love?"

I am trapped in a fanasy world,
undergoing an accuputurists syringe-  a frightening mix.

a love junkie with leather skin surounding the rib cage.
experimenting with exploitation, and the silly beliefs,
that one last fix can cure such bad timing.

Im spoiled rotten, a pout sits stubernly on the brow,
where I would rather sweat, or kisses, or marmalade.
anything but the face of a victem. a soggy baby,
who wails on and on and on. rejecting comfort.

to abandon the feeling that I have been wronged.
to burn the stories written in my head of how it should be.

to burn everything.

I have ever loved. ever remembered. ever given time of day.
except maybe some happy memories of my father.
some good bands, and my favorite foods.