I'm sorry
but i don't like
to go home at all.
Huge slanted eyes
follow me there.
Flared nostrils
never miss
the odor of alcohol
and smoke on my breath.

I'm paranoid.
I slam walls
with my face

Eyes and nostrils
make me
we all have
eyes and nostrils
for that purpose.

I've seen that gleam
you think i'm too young
for all this shit but
i've been old.
And you were so quiet
i was always afraid
to tell you
my nightmares
with needles
(those evil
that foul smell
in my hair that sticks
and about
my obsession
with dying too.

      you were
in another world.
I can't remember
what language it was
you spoke.
Slips my mind
all the time
and you thought
I was crazy
but now I'm trying
so fucking hard
to remember.

I won't tell you
about the days I spent
trying to join you.
I won't mention
the weeks
of sitting in a corner
of my room
with a knife and cigarettes
trying to decide
is the better way to die.

I won't say
that I know you,
even though i do.

You could admire yourself
only through
shattered mirrors
or doting lovers' eyes.

I've thrown away
all the mirrors I had
and I've left
all traces of hands
on my body behind.
I miss neither,
shit, I miss both.
   You the most.

You shouldn't have left me here alone.