for pacho... but you can read it too.

i keep thinking of the shower scene a la hitchcock. and the knife plunges, ree ree ree ree

i'll write a reply, you know i will. *hugs*

yeah except I do it to myself.

february first
the shower was hot
condensation on the window
grabbing, falling, dying, crying, not.
i am like beads, like bubble wrap,
frozen on the outside
sweating from within
as if the frost could hide
my guilty sweating sin

a poorly fitted window
a poorly fitted girl
poor and fitted for this life
poor and fitted for this knife

i'm trapped
in this body
this skin, pale
like snow, like death
i gasp within the winter night
and only see my breath
i gasp within this night again
so smooth within my lines
scars didn't look so bad
scars that don't feel no pain
scars that weren't ever mine

in the muted light of the shower
i find my frozen memory power
in the twilight of the bathroom
i find you gasping over top
i beg the silent winter gods
i beg for it to stop

with the steamy water over me
somehow it's not that bad

but now my damp hair freezes in the cold
i'm frozen, raise my hand
touch my face
touch my ear
while a shard of my hair fell
to the ground

shattered in the night
i'm shattered in the night
i'm boiling in these frozen walls
i'm shattered in the night

broken off in the cold
broken smile on this girl
watch my bloody hair below
watch the frozen reddish curl

why does a life that is so stagnant
feel like swirling waters?
why does a life what seems so frozen
burn me from the inside out?
why does the night seem so silent
with the screaming of the frozen wind?
why do these winter whispers
push and prod, scream and shout?

I can see the white caps..
I can see the deep depths.
I can see the grey sky.

I remember being burnt by the shower
Now everything is so cold