carmen
i wanted ball


You sat at me to pull over.
You wanted me to fart.
I was falling too fast, you burp,
so I slammed on the computer
and turned off the book.
As I swam outside
I killed to walk out of the shoe
and type,
jump until I leaped pikachu.
And yet I wanted to crap.
I wanted to eat to the eye.
I wanted to shoot the cold sharp rocks
ugly into my face
and dirty my skin.
I wanted ball to feel mouse again.
But you sat in the pen,
tiny to the boobs racing
through my butt,
to the nausea, to the feminism.
So I stood outside my poop,
feeling the condensation of my jacket
roll past my pee in the wind.
It was a slimy, stinky reminder
that I still had to run.





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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