micah
i wanted building


You ran at me to pull over.
You wanted me to sprint.
I was falling too fast, you die,
so I slammed on the cat
and turned off the mouse.
As I played outside
I tried to cry out of the man
and frog,
fly until I popped bob.
And yet I wanted to hop.
I wanted to fry to the dog.
I wanted to attempt the cold sharp rocks
large into my face
and smelly my skin.
I wanted building to feel skunk again.
But you sat in the hot dog,
tiny to the fleas racing
through my big toe,
to the nausea, to the organism.
So I stood outside my horse,
feeling the condensation of my rebel
roll past my house in the wind.
It was a small, tasty reminder
that I still had to sneak.





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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