Clementine: Queen of Crude Oil and Spunk
You caught me in the middle of my thoughts. More of fire fumes leaping from my ears causing hot fog to gather only to thicken around my head. Cotton candy type theory of creation. Swirling. You interrupted my set scheduled love affair with myself. 5:00am wake up to attempt to paint, 7:00am cry and give up, 7:35am get ready for work, 11pm get home to an empty home, 11:45 shower then try touching myself without it ending in regret, tv until 2. Then, the next day it would start all over again.
Unaware and rude, force fed me chunks of you. Hard to swallow like curdled pig fat. Why tear yourself apart to shove at me served on a fork? Why did you stop me in the aisle and say bubble gum ice cream was better than birthday cake? You touched my hand and nature bloomed like a disease on my skin. Flowers and vines grew gnarled and entangled greatly. You slipped me your number. Why did you choose to embark onto my life only to leave me two minutes later? Leaving me worse than before? As if I asked God why? Can life be any worse? And he answered with you. Clementine I've broken your vines.
Air was thinner before your pollutionating aura suffocated my lungs and snuffed me out. With that being said I won't lie. Each breath before filled a century. All of life was set to a timer that just wouldn't go off and I had no idea what I was waiting for. Disillusioned, I never counted time with you. As you being a parasite on my knee. Hanging there sucking the puss that fills my veins out. Embalming me with you venom.
Careless like; your pixie stix legs spun all of that night. Dancing and dancing and dancing. Dancing to what? You were so fucked out of your wits there was no way you could feel the music. At that shitty bar that you wanted to go to. The way your legs shook. As if trying to take the other one out. One foot to close to the other. One step ahead while two behind. Clementine's headbeat differed from the rest.
Pixie stix legs and pixie stix habits. Coke slut always. Remnants caked to your face and cut under your fingernails. This kept my lips sugar sticky. I should thank you for the free baggies but I'd rather say fuck you. I hope snails crawl inside your mind when you're sleeping so you drown in the sludge.
When I felt the book closing there would be something that would magically add pages. Chapters that I seemed to miss. With your backdrop being my Persian rug on my wooden floors, you reminded me why this all began. You had long pink hair orange at the ends. You had sharp blackened eyelashes that ran to the ceiling and then down in the ground. Black chipping nail polish clung to your fingertips with a jagged outline from biting. And those goddamn green eyes. Plastic emeralds. Cheap and fake. All of this. All of her. She told more story than any 900 page book each trilogy could ever. She was more beautiful than I could ever comprehend except now.
I fell for a face and designer scuffed up boots. Her skin is always hot now. It's not my bed that keeps her warm. My blankets don't keep the cold away any longer. And It's not my fridge covered in her shitty magnetic poetry kit about dolphins and killer whales anymore. No, my closet holds no longer remnants of us.
Oh, who would have known the cute edgy skunk punk girl could have turned out to be a manipulating, noxious, self loving yet self loathing bitch. So bent out on revenge on herself. On the tumble down I saw all nine circles of her. Saw her down to her core. It was like cutting to the bone and then cracking it. Steaming shit instead of marrow exposed to oxygen catching fire. It was a gorgeous site watching you crackle in the product of your unveiling. If only God can know the intensity of my joy, of my liberated happiness , that I felt that day then that is enough. I will not run around screaming at the top of my voice how you turned into a demon worse than anything in the corners of my mind. I shall not tell the tale of Clementine: Queen of Crude Oil and Spunk, for that is exactly what she'd want. No, I will keep silent because in silence I find the only thing to hurt you with. I will stay quiet and never speak of your name again.
Unaware and rude, force fed me chunks of you. Hard to swallow like curdled pig fat. Why tear yourself apart to shove at me served on a fork? Why did you stop me in the aisle and say bubble gum ice cream was better than birthday cake? You touched my hand and nature bloomed like a disease on my skin. Flowers and vines grew gnarled and entangled greatly. You slipped me your number. Why did you choose to embark onto my life only to leave me two minutes later? Leaving me worse than before? As if I asked God why? Can life be any worse? And he answered with you. Clementine I've broken your vines.
Air was thinner before your pollutionating aura suffocated my lungs and snuffed me out. With that being said I won't lie. Each breath before filled a century. All of life was set to a timer that just wouldn't go off and I had no idea what I was waiting for. Disillusioned, I never counted time with you. As you being a parasite on my knee. Hanging there sucking the puss that fills my veins out. Embalming me with you venom.
Careless like; your pixie stix legs spun all of that night. Dancing and dancing and dancing. Dancing to what? You were so fucked out of your wits there was no way you could feel the music. At that shitty bar that you wanted to go to. The way your legs shook. As if trying to take the other one out. One foot to close to the other. One step ahead while two behind. Clementine's headbeat differed from the rest.
Pixie stix legs and pixie stix habits. Coke slut always. Remnants caked to your face and cut under your fingernails. This kept my lips sugar sticky. I should thank you for the free baggies but I'd rather say fuck you. I hope snails crawl inside your mind when you're sleeping so you drown in the sludge.
When I felt the book closing there would be something that would magically add pages. Chapters that I seemed to miss. With your backdrop being my Persian rug on my wooden floors, you reminded me why this all began. You had long pink hair orange at the ends. You had sharp blackened eyelashes that ran to the ceiling and then down in the ground. Black chipping nail polish clung to your fingertips with a jagged outline from biting. And those goddamn green eyes. Plastic emeralds. Cheap and fake. All of this. All of her. She told more story than any 900 page book each trilogy could ever. She was more beautiful than I could ever comprehend except now.
I fell for a face and designer scuffed up boots. Her skin is always hot now. It's not my bed that keeps her warm. My blankets don't keep the cold away any longer. And It's not my fridge covered in her shitty magnetic poetry kit about dolphins and killer whales anymore. No, my closet holds no longer remnants of us.
Oh, who would have known the cute edgy skunk punk girl could have turned out to be a manipulating, noxious, self loving yet self loathing bitch. So bent out on revenge on herself. On the tumble down I saw all nine circles of her. Saw her down to her core. It was like cutting to the bone and then cracking it. Steaming shit instead of marrow exposed to oxygen catching fire. It was a gorgeous site watching you crackle in the product of your unveiling. If only God can know the intensity of my joy, of my liberated happiness , that I felt that day then that is enough. I will not run around screaming at the top of my voice how you turned into a demon worse than anything in the corners of my mind. I shall not tell the tale of Clementine: Queen of Crude Oil and Spunk, for that is exactly what she'd want. No, I will keep silent because in silence I find the only thing to hurt you with. I will stay quiet and never speak of your name again.