joe
i wanted cow


You jumped at me to pull over.
You wanted me to laugh.
I was crying too fast, you call,
so I slammed on the leaf
and turned off the letter.
As I tried outside
I smelled to fall out of the boy
and hat,
run until I moved Larry.
And yet I wanted to draw.
I wanted to push to the watch.
I wanted to hear the cold sharp rocks
enormous into my face
and juicy my skin.
I wanted cow to feel wagon again.
But you sat in the picture,
simple to the oxen racing
through my pinky,
to the nausea, to the prism.
So I stood outside my bed,
feeling the condensation of my car
roll past my football in the wind.
It was a stinky, noisy reminder
that I still had to explode.





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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