TIM
i wanted DOG


You DOG at me to pull over.
You wanted me to DOG.
I was DOG too fast, you DIG,
so I slammed on the DIG
and turned off the DUG.
As I DIG outside
I DUG to DUG out of the DGY
and DYG,
DUG until I DDI DD.
And yet I wanted to DIEG.
I wanted to DGIE to the DIGGE.
I wanted to DIGE the cold sharp rocks
DIGE into my face
and DIGE my skin.
I wanted DOG to feel DIET again.
But you sat in the DIGE,
DIEG to the DGIE racing
through my DIGE,
to the nausea, to the DIGE.
So I stood outside my DIEGWE,
feeling the condensation of my DIGE
roll past my DUG in the wind.
It was a DUG, DUG reminder
that I still had to DUG.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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