mites

the ringing of absence overpowers every song
stab my ears with toothpicks to unhear
the prima ballerina twirls into my unknown
wearing ragged camouflage
to ring in new year
i unbelong
in the house i burned frankincense
didn't sing a single tune
all the sweet traditionals tied up with rope in a moldy back room
i swallow my way through dinner
fished from the poisoned well
i feed myself from it daily
i know exactly what's rotting in there.

you would think either you're alive or you're not
and you can't just pick a side and feed the doubts to the dogs
i've been crying myself a beautiful fog
there are mites in my beehive and they've taken all i got

i've always been a scab picking, finger licking,
pocket slicing, nickel dropping, floor crawling,
ear to the ground kind of girl
i scrutinize the body, it keeps getting caught up in
love and worship, fishnet, harness, pyramid schemes
i am building it a tomb out of tv ads and doom
you may seal it with a little spit and a smile
i can offer you a spot where my pillow's drenched in snot
just let me scoot over a little to the side
wish i was a lock-picking, finger sticking
socket touching, core fucking, years lost to death
and then found kind of girl
i monetize the wreck, from the toes up to the neck
i am barely moving, yet somehow still a blur

you would think either you're alive or you're not
and you can't just pick a side and feed the doubts to the dogs
i've been crying myself a beautiful fog
there are mites in the beehive and they've taken all i got