Betrayal is An Unmarked Grave

the first time you trust a pack of hungry dogs to watch your newborn, they will relish in ripping and devouring its tender flesh; knawing bits of stubborn cartilage til there is nothing left to feast on. — they hiss and growl at you for not having more.

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Somber Sobriety

My brain wakes up and cries for the death of its living baby. so used to hurling ourselves [booze] down the hatch, the still afterwake unscathed is surreal; like crying when happy, our system malfunctions.

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Wicked

Je veux envelopper mes bras autour de vous, mais vous ne me le permettez pas. Quel monde quel monde quel monde Me fondre.

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Spinster

short-shorted piggy-bunned riding that baby blue bike through the grass fronts of small business and edges of town on a monday day. — no one knows you’re 27. pedophiles eye you, suspiciously, that you know how traffic functions.

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Addiction: Middle Management of Capitalism

exertion charred lungs feel good after branding, though spin class is actual hell. endorphins, you are not booze or coffee, but you are okay [for now] — suddenly there is so much more to do. Not addiction constrained to certain locations everywhere is a place to be; my body, unhooked from IV free to explore.…

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You Bastard

a selfish wasp scared away the adult woman from her floral patio furniture. it sniffed at brick and caulk; looking for holes in the exterior to infiltrate like it owns the place.

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This bird is Trapped in my Camera Frozen in Take-off Forever

the plant extended itself just slightly towards the sun to motion, “hey, I need more.” maybe we all have a way of doing that whether cognizant of our own movement or not. — a centipede flew down from the wood awning fearlessly then skittered across floor boards in pursuit of destination building crevice [pretending it…

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“oh, They Must Be Masturbating”

My actual thought if I see someone is: -sitting alone with sunglasses on in a parked car at any park, -sitting alone in a hotel hottub, -me, -peewee herman. — i just left a sweat mark on a brick wall, a brick mark on a sweat back, and not even from anything fun.

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They Say

there’s always an eye opening moment before sobriety. The first time for me was the morning after waking up having dranken from the tank my miramo moss ball was floating in. — i remember drunk as fuck lifting the cold orb into my palms and pouring its contents down my throat until it was nearly…

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I’d Say

I felt bad for you, if I was to say anything at all. and that would be a lie. — bite your inner cheeks some more, babydoll. it’s ripe to be a long, lonely summer.

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