jenni
i wanted pencil


You played at me to pull over.
You wanted me to scream.
I was walking too fast, you play,
so I slammed on the pen
and turned off the paper.
As I talking outside
I skipped to hop out of the class
and jump,
run until I loved jose.
And yet I wanted to make.
I wanted to sing to the hair spray.
I wanted to dance the cold sharp rocks
hard into my face
and gross my skin.
I wanted pencil to feel make up again.
But you sat in the glass,
powdery to the monsters racing
through my cheek,
to the nausea, to the poism.
So I stood outside my telephone,
feeling the condensation of my ball
roll past my condom in the wind.
It was a slimy, itchy reminder
that I still had to cry.





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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