skeleton hands protrude like whalebone needles from a rattling wrist

they poke and pinch and prod

and chop chop

i skewer myself on my own fingers

shish kabob teenage heart throb

holy holy

mother is god

if ever there was one

she'll know what this ritual is

i will kick myself out of this godforsaken

dressing room hellscape

through department store windows

through cheap glass and the skinny girls

and skinnier girls

and pretty girls

and all these sad sad girls

and into my bed alone alone

with nothing but a solemn oath

etched into my finger bones

a/n: all the pretty girls. all the pretty lies.