Brianna
i wanted peninsula


You mcdoopered at me to pull over.
You wanted me to poke.
I was flogooping too fast, you die,
so I slammed on the butt
and turned off the egyptian scribe.
As I eaten outside
I killed to shoot out of the toilet
and stare,
stab until I munched Mrs. Leto.
And yet I wanted to blow.
I wanted to murder to the chinchilla.
I wanted to cook the cold sharp rocks
gay into my face
and drunk my skin.
I wanted peninsula to feel bazooka again.
But you sat in the egg,
obese to the socks racing
through my ear,
to the nausea, to the retardism.
So I stood outside my crack,
feeling the condensation of my fig newton
roll past my artichoke in the wind.
It was a massive, dumb reminder
that I still had to throw.





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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