Give up

The moon is wild,
giving me every reason to stretch my legs,
giving me motive to motion,
to turn myself on.
I hold down gallons of scorpions,
pinching the velvet sewn into my skin.
They crawl everywhere,
leaving behind their poison charm,
murdering moments I've tattooed upon my hip.
Ideas of who I'd like to be,
a monster.
Where are you going?
Somewhere impressive I hope.
Because I'm tired of giving my self away
to give ups, and empty dreamers.
begging to be released from my dark lullabies.
They are so ugly, but they are mine,
so I will love them.
All of these memories are ugly,
but they are mine,
birthed from the canal of my cannibalistic brain
So no matter how dark,
I will love them.