Sumn sum1 wrote that Marie sent to me. I heart it.
I'll paint silver crosses on you and bathe in your bathwater and breathe in your soul but I have to say I saw that other woman in Rome. Are you my Rome? My Glam god? You're my Tommy Gnosis, and you’re stealing my heat, and my songs, and my word and I think I want to be everything to you. I felt empty yesterday and I realized who I was, who I am, a girl floating above everyone and you gave me my winged roller skates, honey. Why do you paint pictures of moons and lips and teeth like portraits of yourself when sometimes all you really are made of in needles and hot sweaty leather. And your skin is not what the moon is made off but it is cocaine and I am an addict.
One time a boy told me to look down my shirt and spell attic. I slapped him that day. I also met you and spoke to you and kissed you at some party. I carved my name on your hipbones and you carved yours on to mine but it didn’t hurt because I could breathe you in and I had inhaled some drug that made me want to spin like the pinwheels in your eyes. I heard a song by a Swedish girl and I knew she was the girl in Rome, with the dark hair and the long legs, and I wanted to scrub my scars away but they are permanent so I just laid on my bed and painted on my skin and put pearls and strands of beads over my eyes and in my mouth. And you found me that way and you said, “Oh, I’m sorry.” And I said something like “burning through your eyes” and choked on pearls and the you pulled me to the bath tub and made me clean again but I felt so much more dirty knowing that she was the one who crawled over you, her fingers like spiders.
You sang me to sleep and we were wrapped in lace and gauze and once again you found my name on your skin, making another flaw.
One time a boy told me to look down my shirt and spell attic. I slapped him that day. I also met you and spoke to you and kissed you at some party. I carved my name on your hipbones and you carved yours on to mine but it didn’t hurt because I could breathe you in and I had inhaled some drug that made me want to spin like the pinwheels in your eyes. I heard a song by a Swedish girl and I knew she was the girl in Rome, with the dark hair and the long legs, and I wanted to scrub my scars away but they are permanent so I just laid on my bed and painted on my skin and put pearls and strands of beads over my eyes and in my mouth. And you found me that way and you said, “Oh, I’m sorry.” And I said something like “burning through your eyes” and choked on pearls and the you pulled me to the bath tub and made me clean again but I felt so much more dirty knowing that she was the one who crawled over you, her fingers like spiders.
You sang me to sleep and we were wrapped in lace and gauze and once again you found my name on your skin, making another flaw.