Barbed Wire Girl

I suppose its
hidden in the way I move
most of the time
you can’t see the barbed wire girl
protruding from beneath
my porcelain skin.

The lacerations they leave behind
probably don’t ache for long,
lacking venom
they are more like paper cuts
to the unsuspecting ego.

What better muse than myself
with such armaments
the only thing I have to fear
is a lack of love
from the dull witted and diluted
campus drunkards
which is to say, nothing.

I’m the ammuntion you fire at eachother

sometimes I wonder
why it is that I can’t sleep
when there is an empty place.
I am just another
in a long line of codependents
I am just another
in a long line of arguments.
my father proposed to my mother
in a Mexican restaurant,
I was a little collection of cells
multiplying and dividing
just like the one inside my sister.
but that one was planed
and therefore,
will never feel like the weak glue
holding her family together.
The wedding band
is just a symbol
for what I created
by my creation
and my fathers catholic upbringing.