My mind is full of deceits.
I paint on my corpse
With glitter pens that draw butterflies
Along the scars at the back of my hand.
I pour on perfumes
To hide the yellow stench
of my naked and ugly form.
They call me a spinster
So I spin
lies on a canvas of trickery
diluting dried flakes of blood for paint.
I open my legs for compliments
My love stories are fraud
And my poetry is but a fetish.
My lovers are dead and gone.
But I still keep their corpses,
For the sake of memory
And pretend they are sleeping awhile.
I haven't left the house in days.
Holding on to the shred of sky
that I can see from my window
till I can't tell the dead stars from the living
Or the Truth from the False.
You know you are lost
When you start believing your lies.
And then you win.
I won.
Tonight, I'm Invincible.
Don't touch me.