The Little Traveler

I go to that shaky place when I need to wake up
and watch myself decay

this flower soils my case
destruction whispers to my spine

we head out towards apologies,
but prevent forgiveness of ourselves

I plug my ears
and bite my tongue
when you say you watched me sleep

this special relationship we have
is colder than your mother’s dead son

She drowned him in a bathtub
the spinning door stuck

churches on t.v.
don’t call this beauty
I’m one of the ones who don’t care