How Dry My Mouth Has Become
I stand
Ever prideful
Watching shadows
Fill the cracks of the foundation
How I want to invite them into
My cell of insanity
Where I curse pure intentions
And shiver on bathroom title in Portland night
I would show them my ribs
And hands with skin like designer paper
Let them trace every newly etched line
And examine eyes the color of desired dreams
They could turn every story to murdered moths
Have this tomb so I have nothing more
Except the pills and dust
And the cool numbness of knowing
A Beautiful Violation 