jessica lowber
i wanted table


You rounded at me to pull over.
You wanted me to swing.
I was deffening too fast, you sit,
so I slammed on the bike
and turned off the hell.
As I traveled outside
I living to loose out of the bed
and slip,
comb until I carried lover.
And yet I wanted to tire.
I wanted to crazy to the bathtub.
I wanted to lean the cold sharp rocks
wet into my face
and wild my skin.
I wanted table to feel dream again.
But you sat in the cave,
vien to the mountains racing
through my neck,
to the nausea, to the comunism.
So I stood outside my gallery,
feeling the condensation of my desert
roll past my backstage in the wind.
It was a swollen, crimson reminder
that I still had to sift.





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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