you sadsad boy with slanted eyes.
"smoking is a disgusting habit you know," you say as you take a drag of my cigarette.

im imagining the smoke curling itself around your rib bones and squeezing the marrow right out of them.
so youll have hollow strawbones to suck your poison through.

your a liar, boy and your pretty stormeyes dont strike lightning anymore.
all they do is rain.

i cant say im sorry that your teeth hurt when you look at me or that your knuckles crack when you touch me. or that your eyes sting when you cant get to sleep.

you keep rubbing your rabbit paw until the fur comes off.

youll get brittle bones
and blisters.
and i still cant say im sorry.