i don’t believe in lennon, brennan, g, or ge
no one talks to me anymore
get your resume on
warning: this medication may turn you into a painting
i can’t draw you a dream or show you to the exact storm day negative of rainy day collections / 4 blue cars & 1 red wet heart balloon jimmy used to wipe his glasses / the quarter spun at the truck stop, henna tattoo booth, or apartment advancing day by day forgetting my face my voice now not the same bad sad man saying goodbye to mr. polite with at least with back aches and acting anxious sticky strawberry spongy angel cake out of touch running in place picking apart the hard boiled egg little anchovies and their weird fucking faces chased by plastic ware in the cold lettuce pond / bad choices for sale american blend / murky lurking jerk often excused from the table / i should be sharing salmon with sharron and shannon buchanan slow motion low commotion post partial organic perishable habits taken for granted hand held habitats petrified midnight snacker “nothing about this cigarette, packaging, or color should be interpreted to mean safer”
emotionally wrecked analog will. the east coast of canada can’t be easy. bad choices are on sale, just add water. the habits i crafted into adapting to hand held habitats. i sleep better when you’re around anyway. i had all the lights on in the morning when the sun was out. red writing on concrete. childhood dreams of fighting fires detaining fire flies. i, never growing tired. bundled heavy for summer and not a woman named after seasons not a nature named after women.
a piece of trash at the dump taken in to raise / long circles on the menu / powerful brains every year 19-something american western walk on the sidewalk / expensive open collarbone shirts / so long to starting over theatrical campus rarity of pretty, broken things old city-lit summer night black and white monster show special / red writing on concrete / detaining fire flies in jars / panic at any given stricken second bundling heavy for summer with the lights on