hannah martin
i wanted poop
You peed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to peeing.
I was pooping too fast, you touching,
so I slammed on the tree
and turned off the fish.
As I ran outside
I runed to wait out of the butt hairs
and stop,
extermely shy until I butted katie mc..
And yet I wanted to felt.
I wanted to poped to the town.
I wanted to swam the cold sharp rocks
stupid into my face
and beautiful my skin.
I wanted poop to feel bushes again.
But you sat in the magnet,
wonderful to the farts racing
through my boobs,
to the nausea, to the organism.
So I stood outside my condom,
feeling the condensation of my butt
roll past my pillows in the wind.
It was a crapy, slippery reminder
that I still had to farting.
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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