Crucify

every finger in the room
is pointing at me
i wanna spit in their faces
then i get afraid what that could bring
i got a bowling ball in my stomach
i got a desert in my mouth
figures that my COURAGE
would choose to sell out now

i’ve been looking for a savior
in these dirty streets
looking for a savior
beneath these dirty sheets
i’ve been raising up my hands
drive another nail in
just what GOD needs
one more victim

why do we crucify ourselves
every day i crucify myself
nothing i do is good enough for you
crucify myself
every day
i crucify myself
and my HEART is sick of being
in chains

got a kick for a dog
beggin’ for LOVE
i gotta have my suffering
so that i can have my cross
i know a cat named easter
he says will you ever learn
you’re just an empty cage girl
if you kill the bird

i’ve been looking for a savior
in these dirty streets
looking for a savior
beneath these dirty sheets
i’ve been raising up my hands
drive another nail in
got enough GUILT to start
my own religion

why do we crucify ourselves
every day i crucify myself
nothing i do is good enough for you
crucify myself
every day i crucify myself
and my HEART is sick of being in chains

please be
save me
i CRY

looking for a savior
in these dirty streets
looking for a savior
beneath these dirty sheets
i’ve been raising up my hands
drive another nail in
where are those angels
when you need them

why do we crucify ourselves
every day i crucify myself
nothing i do is good enough for you
crucify myself
every day i crucify myself
and my HEART is sick of being
in chains

why do we
crucify ourselves
everyday

never going back again
crucify myself
again you know
never going back again to
crucify myself everyday

© Sword & Stone

 

She had Tori Amos’s CD playing…again… and was singing along in the car as she cruised down the highway on her way to a wedding she shouldn’t be going to with a guy she didn’t really love because, well fuck, she was afraid to, you know?  He was a good guy and, I mean really, she didn’t deserve good guys.  He was just a little too nice, too good.  He brought her a flower for Valentine’s Day.  He smiled at her sweetly when she was being bitchy as hell.  He walked her home when she was too trashed to make it back to her dorm solo at night… And he soaked up all of her scraps of affection, which she knew was totally and completely unfair, and she couldn’t make herself be totally honest with him and cut him free because, really, she was constantly thinking of hurting herself and, in a way, even though she was hurting him, she was hurting herself by staying with him, too. Because she KNEW it was wrong.  That goddamn Catholic guilt that her loving grandmother had doused her with day after day, week after week, month after month, was rotting her gut like super strength battery acid.  Yay for the power of prayer, Grandma!

“Crucify myself, ev-e-reeeee day, and nothin’ I do is good enough for you!”

She was going to have to break things off.   She would be leaving soon – running away again because, big surprise, she had essentially fucked things up and burned her bridges, again… Lots of agains in her life, Cindy thought.  Lots of repeats, lots of “What was I thinking?”  Which were usually followed with, “I wasn’t…”

“What the hell is WRONG with me?”  Cindy knew that the guys she routinely chose to hook up with and obsess over, like Jon, the bartender from their favorite college hangout this last year of school, were just jerks.  Somehow, somewhere in that tiny part of her brain which should have been using logic and rational thought, something deliberately chose to ignore reality, even as it slapped her in the face and pounded nails through her skin… Jon would allow her (she could be honest for once, as she was alone in the car cranking slit my wrist music) to follow him home for some quick, totally unfulfilling sex (for her, at least), and then wanted her to get the hell out.  She’d make allowances, make up scenarios where he was hiding his real feelings for her, his real depth of personality (as if he wasn’t truly a shallow scum-fuzzed puddle), but c’mon – he did not give a shit.

And the problem was – she believed that that was what she deserved.  Why?  Well, she said to herself, if we’re looking at this honestly, it’s because I’m fat, I’m ugly, no guy has ever really wanted me… I’m not popular – on and on and on she went until the tears were pouring down her face and she had to pull over to sob openly.

What the hell is wrong with me?  Fuck fuck fuck!

After she had pulled herself together, Cindy pulled back out onto the highway, slamming the car in gear and screeching across some gravel to bring herself up to speed with the rest of the demons out there.  Tori started wailing about something else involving a gun… and Cindy thought, well, let’s start here –

That CD flew, baby!

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