Burying a wh.re

And when I die,
surely from sin and dirt and living-
Do not bury me in white.

Do not brush my hair and paint my nails.

Do not shine my heels and iron my dress.

Do not speak of me so bittersweetly.
Bury me in lingerie with frayed lace.

Muss my hair and smear my lipstick.

Scuff my boots and rip my tights.

Speak of me with thinly-veiled vehemence.
Do not love me,

when I am dead.

For none did during life,

other than in the glow of a t.v.

that only played to hide the moans.
Do not bury an imposter

and spin tales of a sweet virgin

who died too soon.

Bury a wh.re

and rage that you were not the one

to finally silence her.

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Prison.

I bare such useless emotions:Sadness,

Loneliness,

Annoyance,

Jealousy,

Boredom,

Empt­iness,

This terrible feeling that I’m feeling right now,

This feeling that wants to rip me apart,

This feeling that’s clawing at me,

Tearing me to pieces,

Pulling at my flesh,

Pulling at my skin,

Pulling at my bones,

Trying to break me .

My soul wants an escape from this

Terrible

Useless

Useless

Useless

Prison that holds it captive.