sarah
i wanted snuffiies malt shop


You FELL at me to pull over.
You wanted me to think.
I was pooping too fast, you run,
so I slammed on the staut of liberty
and turned off the pencil.
As I had killed outside
I slattered to sliping out of the CABNIT
and jumping,
hit until I pooped your mom.
And yet I wanted to sniff.
I wanted to buck to the joe.
I wanted to flick off the cold sharp rocks
shiny into my face
and pretty my skin.
I wanted snuffiies malt shop to feel metal again.
But you sat in the finger nail,
gray to the hairs racing
through my clit,
to the nausea, to the patrotism.
So I stood outside my FINGER,
feeling the condensation of my karen
roll past my fish nets in the wind.
It was a pink, smelly reminder
that I still had to sneeze.





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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