Glycerin for 2 AM

Hours splintered, spiked – no glycerin

Soured highs, fights for the iterim

Thought tonight you really needed me

You’re just mad-again

You say it’s naught!

about the Mexican

but it is about him-again

when he just played some symbol in a narrative of a marriage that

Should’ve been a never-been,

according to him…

According to your “her

According to you, except we were, fifteen years too late-

For you to tell me then.

Sell me on ______ then?

No, you’d rather be high, stay high than forgive my sins

And I’d rather die, rather die, than believe a lie

You and I have been an ever-been,

Instead my mind keeps focused in

On girl-you-wanted-when-the-ring-was-new-I’ll-never-wear-again.

Never. Wear. Again.

So the time won’t bend

And our days never end

And every day blends the same, you complain

my lights are dim.

And all my lights are dim.

And I did want him.

Because you were never there!

Every night, waiting up for me, you were never there.

No you never came, no you were not there

In our first damn place!

And now after I stayed. I stayed and stayed.

And I stayed, even after my own time left me-

I didn’t have to stay.

He passed me, disappeared like glaze…


And they all said GO, but I stayed and stayed.

And your spikes spiked high enough – ENOUGH!

that I knew I would just stay

You still complain-

You still complain.

You want the girl in math or the girl on the train

Or the girl in the skirt or the girl with no brain

Or the girl who was mean or the girl with cocaine

Or the girl who’s a child or the girl you can drain

Or the girl makes you cry

Or the girl bares your name

You want the girl you can bludgeon

The one you can blame for your shame

But I’m not the girl you should kill.

I’m just the girl who refrains…

Flowers wither, wilt – no vase they’re in

Cowered heights, low tide, bleed my wrists again

I thought you finally let me free, but no

You roped me close again

And it’s not about the bed again

No, you’re right.

But it is about your rape again

Call it what it is-

That it’s not just some symbol in the narrative of your family that should have been a never-been

Before me- anything

But an odorless, colorless, non toxic, smoothed over

mess I’m in

Alexa, wake me up at Die AM

Hours gliding by blank- in glycerin

You wouldn’t fill the hours in


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