hazy days in dippy world, 

carefully constructed comforter castle

becomes me;

I am fifteen years,

stone-aged and serated

dizzying days march past 

(I, for one, lost on the battlefield)

With winter nights

poking into my sides, 

shattering cool glass in my eyes

I stitch my lips shut

and hum the sweet song

of starvation. 

With summer nights,

technicolor acid trips,

I paint the sunrise-

cluster cuts on myself,

my canvas,

and find the perfect red.

Pills to balance, 

pills to sleep

All I have is pills to eat.

happy days, dippy world

just another manic girl.