I need more. More food, more love, more sex, more drugs, more validation. I want someone to hold me and brush the hair out of my face. I want them to tell me everything is going to be okay. Most of all, I want to BELIEVE everything them. FUCK- why did things have to turn out this way?
I destroy everything I touch. It is as if I weigh the world down like an anchor around the neck of hope. I try to get out of bed but turn over in disgust. How is today going to be any different than another? I bring my anxiety like a toy in my pocket that falls out at the wrong time revealing that I am a child. I am nervous in you presence. I kissed you and I needed more.
I have a purse full of syringes, a briefcase full of straws, and a heart full of holes. Fill me. Feel me. Plug the holes in my memory where love use to be. I want to be next to you. The drugs can't fill the empty space as you withdraw into silence. Your eyes speak volumes. The relationship ends with my bangs and your whimpers. I curl up on the bed.
I need more. More fucking more more more. Don't make me hurt again. Don't make me hurt you again. Just walk out the door. You scrape me like a bag I found on the floor. You bruise me like a hit on the back on my hand. I would hold up my head but I can barely stand. I am just fucked up and I need more.