Asher Ramras
i wanted tabasco sauce


You fucked up at me to pull over.
You wanted me to vomit.
I was drooling too fast, you spew,
so I slammed on the bus pass
and turned off the pot.
As I smoked outside
I screwed to play out of the elephant
and shot,
regret until I boned condaleeza.
And yet I wanted to forget.
I wanted to ride to the pony.
I wanted to peel the cold sharp rocks
sweaty into my face
and itchy my skin.
I wanted tabasco sauce to feel mudbutt again.
But you sat in the sanitary napkin,
flowing to the monkeys racing
through my fat wrist,
to the nausea, to the communism.
So I stood outside my dictator,
feeling the condensation of my stye
roll past my car in the wind.
It was a fast, fucking crazy reminder
that I still had to finger.





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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