your whores

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
your whores are calling you. i can hear them clawing at the front door.

Submitted: July 24, 2009

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Submitted: July 24, 2009

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your whores are calling you
i can hear them from my home
in the bathroom and there's
piss-yellow water in the tub
and mold growing in the drain
and i hate you, did i tell you that?
you left your dead skin cells on
the soap again and not to mention
a layer of fucking hair and i fucking
hate you

your whores are calling you
i can hear them clawing at the front
door and the green paint is peeling
and it's stuck underneath their
fingernails

there's a dog outside and its barking
and i can still hear your whores
crying like banshees and throwing
themselves at the front door and
my god just open it -- you've
already opened it a million times
before and you've never been this hesitant

hell, it shouldn't matter that i'm here -
i'm right fucking here and you still
don't see me and i cry and cry
and the bath water's cold and yellow
and it does little to fight away knots
of digust and horror -
and your whores are calling you

and i hate you so fucking much
but i'm stuck here in this apartment
and there's a dog outside and why
do you play gospel music, you live in
sin's skin and do you expect it to wash away
all the misdeeds and the skin cells that
aren't yours? i hate you and there's no
doorbell or knocker on your door but it's
paper thin anyways and the shrill call of
banshees and harpies and sirens seeps through
and yes, i can hear them and i can smell
them on your breath and there's no need
hiding it any more

your whores are calling you
and i can hear you answer the door
with a happy creak and there's the
false cheeriness dripping in your voice
and you welcome them with open arms.
and while you pass your time away with
orgies and afterglows i sit and let my
hatred simmer and fester and one day -
i swear to fucking god one day -
i will leave you and the call of your whores
won't plague my tired ears any more

but maybe i won't be so lucky and
maybe my memory's too strong.
they might taint my dreams and stick
on my skin like the remaints of your
spider touch gliding over nerve endings

and i used to love you, too.


>>>break-ups suck. grammar takes a backseat to feelings - hence the lack of periods.<<<


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