not-uh!

make note!
I'd do it in blood
if it didn't get sticky
and start to smell.

my words are odious enough.
expression, compression.

and for those who notice that my veins
are dripdripdripping on the
pearl-white page:

I cloak my morose (more or less)
with a grimy,
black-flecked smirk
of ashes and dust

a twisted thing, my beauty.
a sneaking demon, my thanks.


insides
aren't meant to be
transient

brain-seeds will not flourish
in unfamiliar
turf.