Smeared makeup, broken nails,

ashtray stains, brain stew hurls.

Sitting on the stairs, 

my fingers in your hair.

She’s a Marlboro cigarette,

I’m a moth to a flame.

Throw me against the wall,

I have no-one left to call. 

Wiggling and squirming,

deceit in the rain.

Beckon me over, 

make me your lover, 

stare into my eyes,

claim me, call me “mine”.

Turn off the light

before you feed me your blight.  

I want to be watched, I want to be seen. 

I’ll keep my blinds open, 

ignore what’s been spoken.

Everyone’s watching, give them a show, 

they want us to fall,

don’t throw them a bone. 

There’s no-one to call,

no need for my phone,

the comedown is here,

your chains make it clear that

I am the prisoner,

and you’ve got the key.

What’s gonna happen to the rest of me?