saccharine suffering

how dare you prick my finger & lick it & say it tastes sweet after i've cried salty tears into my calluses & color with anguish on my palms when i'm bored & you say that life is beautiful but the most beautiful thing i've seen today is ash that singed my eyebrows & cauterized my nerves & is that why i feel so numb to pain now or is it just that i'm used to life kicking me & singing nursery rhymes as i slip in mud & grasp at absent hands & i lay in the discarded cinders of your love & i cry and watch as the droplets turn to steam on the hot coals before my eyes & you waft it toward your nose & say it tastes like butterscotch & that makes me mad because no matter how much i endure & endure & endure, you'll always say my pain tastes of sugarplums & that can be good, right & whenever i lick my hips, licorice bites my tongue & i wish that i'd at least get an undertone of pepper so i know that the discomfort isn't just in my head

head

head