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… Smeared- 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 -plethaura

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