Birthday Cake Doesn’t Taste the Same
Eye of the storm
I’m in a fake friend-neighbor’s
third floor bathroom; coke mirror haunts
my devastation and
resistance
Left the faucet running with
Pulp Fiction on pause
but the movie is still playing in my head
Something’s pulling me under-
This party’s fucking over; dumb bitch
overboard, where the sharks serve me
cake and truth-or dare me to bleed
Full moon in Scorpio
and this frog princess has been stung
a few hundred times or so, pondering
too long at Crystal Lake; killer crossroads,
stagnant bath water-over thinking,
over drinking the death parade-kool-aid,
slow motion blinking-
I’ve been merely existing
inside an esoteric yawn
god in the white lines; god
in the mirror- eyes
on the prize yo,
Are you listening? Grow up,
just a mini ego death on a Saturday night-
The bitch is back and all that jazz
I forgot how to have fun or maybe,
I never knew at all
The sharks giggle,
it’s Tuesday
I don’t respond but I’ll be gone
by the time they breakdown
the doors.
Horror Sleaze Trash 