brent scheiber
i wanted cats


You jumped at me to pull over.
You wanted me to skip.
I was licking too fast, you slip,
so I slammed on the dog
and turned off the planet.
As I dipped outside
I yelled to scream out of the child
and laugh,
chuckle until I crushed nick.
And yet I wanted to laughed.
I wanted to like to the girl.
I wanted to yell the cold sharp rocks
girly into my face
and slimy my skin.
I wanted cats to feel fish again.
But you sat in the insect,
purple to the dogs racing
through my ear,
to the nausea, to the spiderism.
So I stood outside my plant,
feeling the condensation of my tree
roll past my car in the wind.
It was a junky, trashed reminder
that I still had to clean.





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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