Sara
i wanted box


You saw at me to pull over.
You wanted me to calm.
I was defenestrating too fast, you walk,
so I slammed on the bear
and turned off the mp3 player.
As I taken outside
I slammed to jump out of the candle
and lite,
yell until I laughed Sabastian.
And yet I wanted to itch.
I wanted to argue to the plate.
I wanted to fall the cold sharp rocks
shiny into my face
and pale my skin.
I wanted box to feel isobar again.
But you sat in the wick,
burnt to the skulls racing
through my hand,
to the nausea, to the masachisism.
So I stood outside my magnet,
feeling the condensation of my school
roll past my incense in the wind.
It was a black, iridescent reminder
that I still had to cough.





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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