Frank Nascar
i wanted necklace


You killed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to kick.
I was humping too fast, you blink,
so I slammed on the book
and turned off the bag.
As I pissed outside
I pooped to slap out of the hair
and hit,
smile until I punching mrs.crout.
And yet I wanted to comb.
I wanted to smack to the shirt.
I wanted to run the cold sharp rocks
retarded into my face
and smelly my skin.
I wanted necklace to feel chris brown again.
But you sat in the car,
large to the cats racing
through my boobs,
to the nausea, to the gaylism.
So I stood outside my poster,
feeling the condensation of my shoe
roll past my google in the wind.
It was a black, slow reminder
that I still had to walk.





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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