Crystallophobia - Trophy Scars

Crudely arranged in a spot not even Christ can claim

It’s been that way for too long to save our hairs from grey

I loved you since you were a child before we both grew our dirty mouths

«So what?»

you say.

It’s not okay — still wearing a blood-soaked filthy blouse

«For every God we claimed was good, did you think we’d be left rotting in the

woods?»

«You can blame us for the youth we had but god you loved me so goddamn bad.»

To my dismay you speak the truth but only when you want me for yourself

It’s a bitter fruit, a sympathetic pill, writhing through the salt-soaked rings

of hell

There are depths that can’t be seen: the holy mess when you can’t forgive

yourself

Egyptian flowers, some ancient war, an angel in your teeth on the ballroom floor

You run out crying towards my car as a gesture for your fear of old age

I follow your indulgent pain, I ask you do you feel so safe?

You say «Fuck your face and fuck your blame!

The only thing I claim is your

last name!»

Now I know my fear and I know my place my bank account and my Welsh last name

We are hollow

We are vacant

We are happy with death in mind

We are pregnant

We are shallow

We are fixed on a cruel dark plight

We are fixed on a broken-down, some jumbled, unfortunate lie