You like your girls clean
Porcelain skin canvases for you to paint your sins
You decorate them with your stencil blade
Lock their pores in
Blood and Liquor and Tears
each medium a delicate selection from your palette of regrets.
In the mornings
you set your unfinished work free
It walks aimlessly through a city of Murals and Museums
but nothing compares to what you’ve done.
A starving artist
who feasts on clean girls.
Until you met me.
I’m not a clean girl.
I have unruly hair
sprouting from a skull with opinions.
I have a contorted mouth
from voicing my thoughts.
I have tainted eyes
I’m covered in myself.
There is no room on this stained skin left for you to ruin me.
So I’ll ruin you instead.
And I’ll leave you in the morning.
This time I’ll be the one
with the stench
of Blood and Liquor and Tears
lingering on my fingertips.
Walking straight lines through the city.
Avoiding eye contact with your art.