Fogging The Insides Of Hypodermia

Somewhere upon time Mother Mary lay bleeding in all the wonders of technicolor
but all you and I could taste was smoke on my tongue
and the beer on our skin and coming through our noses at the mention
of my childhood, a little fragile thing pretending she was a boy
to look at girls in secret and think how soft-looking they were, how beautiful
and baby, I swear my arms didn't always bleed names I didn't know
you pressed me up against the doorframe, your tongue
dragging innuendos that cut my skin and said
"Hannah, you're the better part of a car wreck"

and my mouth left smears against the glass

"Hannah you're harmless if injested"
but wasn't it you who turned every s in my vocabulary to c's
and my knees and eyes hit the tile in quick secession
you heard me vomiting up fire-flys and I told you just to set me on fire,
that I was just a ship whose rats have left her falling in the hands of gravity
and under the nose of God
or a flip to you drawing on my face with India ink and Chinese brushes,
brought me anemones, "Sweetie it's okay you're my lovergirl"
came into my room at night,
choked me on the visible light spectrum and told me we were meant for each other

the drinks we had last night tasted so bitter coming back up
but they were so sweet going down,
so good when you were saying good night and sweet dreams
when you wake up i will be cocooning in the bed beside you, becoming new
and beautiful just for you