you make me want to spill my guts on your shoes and apologize for ruining them despite the fact that it was you that made me feel sick in the first place
you could convince a person to move to hell and stay there for an eternity
and I? I'm ready to rob a bank anytime.
 I want to keep my secrets and at the same time I want to tell you about everything I've ever seen and smelt, every prick of a thorn tree that made me lose blood, every goosbump that has crossed my thighs.

that being said, how long will I stay? How long before my stomach stops curdling and I break another ankle leaping across the street (the ocean)?