Jim
i wanted car


You drove at me to pull over.
You wanted me to ate.
I was buying too fast, you spend,
so I slammed on the oven
and turned off the mit.
As I baked outside
I singing to celebrate out of the cake
and mutilating,
stand until I vaccumming car dealer.
And yet I wanted to sell.
I wanted to deal to the new car.
I wanted to smell the cold sharp rocks
bright blue into my face
and large my skin.
I wanted car to feel truck again.
But you sat in the computer,
loud to the students racing
through my finger,
to the nausea, to the cinisisim.
So I stood outside my stereo,
feeling the condensation of my knob
roll past my speaker in the wind.
It was a blast, loudly reminder
that I still had to listen.





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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