My Home Is Not A Home

I want to cut open my brain just to get at my core, lend me a joint- I’ll send back a whore!

Open a can, pull off the tab- roll up your sleeve when you lean in for a stab.

Take down some notes, whisper in your words, don’t let them know you’ve already slipped them a ghost.

Pretend you’re a friend, open your throat- spill in your dirt, mix in the hurt…

Paprika and Spice, they say it’s all nice—but watch how it burns when you figure out their lies.

Big words and bigger bulges, find the balls to tell them off—I’ll never stand up for myself… investigate my life, turn on all my devices, let them know how you rock when you split me open.

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Say one thing- forget the next second- remember something good; absorb all the bad.

Darken your soul, good religious girl, go to Sunday schools- those are cool; I don’t want to stay, I wanna leave; it’s you putting the blame on me, based on recent history—I want to leave; oh god- how I wanna leave.

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Paranoia lives here; don’t you know?