blazing scars

adorned her slim arms

and her shiny shoulders

and her small, round face

It could only mean

one thing

She had a horrible fight

with her imaginary friends

again

Whenever one of those

events occurred she

had to get away from them

for a while, until things

cooled off again

To get away from

imaginary friends

one had to lower one’s self

to spending time with

real people (Ew!)

It was

terrible

It was

a curse

“But I gotta do it,” she said. “I got

this empty bottle

of vodka

that I don’t remember emptying

and I’m gonna fucking swing it

against a wall

and I’m gonna go to the mall

and stick

the sharp end of it into

the guard’s belly. He’s gonna cry

like the bitch he is

and call for reinforcements

and then they’re gonna take me

to jail again.

I’ll…