"she has a monster inside her skin" Written by Adam Guerra

She has a monster inside her skin that pours out lies that give birth to more ignorance
and with in the moment of hugging distance everything turns to silence, old picture movies and unwashed hands.

She goes through the steps, as if moving her feet are just operations that the machine tells her to do.

her loose tracked mouth opens with cracked lips and bubblegum breath, a tongue that snakes slither would be excited for
during its last day of dying rest, like calloused movements in the bowl of dirty bathwater, loose change and regretful letters 

she bows down to the mirror, exacting a precious movement, stabbing towards the west position , like cigarettes and milkshakes are 
treats for abortion doctors.

Her wrists are broken tea pot corrections on the long sliver of two headlights and a heroin needle.

She rides voices down to the bone and shatters.

She has a monster inside her skin that smells of alabaster and smoked up tobacco  rolled up and shipped out, starlit and hunted down.

her body creeks like ugly wooden floors in the middle of a full moon light, she walks.

She is the castle high, ring finger pointed to the northern pretense suggestion of confusion, indigested through poignant
open cast staring privilege plotting, self insurged by company least forgetful.

there is no more promise in her voice, just the ugly sharing gift that spits out of the sockets, dislocated joints and sickle cell 
projection.

She wants to taste your running fears.

She wants to collect you dreams and fill them with falling towers and liars eyes.

She wants a place to call home.

She has a monster inside her skin that shoves coal on the fire, burn the bridge and collect the bones automatic rust settings.

she has a monster inside her skin.

Written by Adam Guerra
Posted on 10/06/12