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i wanted Mcdonalds


You thought at me to pull over.
You wanted me to run.
I was hoping too fast, you jump,
so I slammed on the computer
and turned off the Tori.
As I ran outside
I played to think out of the tree
and sit,
skip until I cried Dad.
And yet I wanted to hit.
I wanted to dance to the mouse.
I wanted to hope the cold sharp rocks
small into my face
and big my skin.
I wanted Mcdonalds to feel dog again.
But you sat in the field,
loud to the resturants racing
through my foot,
to the nausea, to the patriotism.
So I stood outside my pen,
feeling the condensation of my book
roll past my Wallgreens in the wind.
It was a colorful, large reminder
that I still had to read.





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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