Wednesday, May 6, 2015

from p.4 on the Monday after Prom.


  • I hate the mannequins
    of Old Navy

    because they
    are the perfect
    plastic family

    when you never
    even got me that
    Barbie for my 8th
    birthday.


  • Anonymous
    names slides like raw eggs
    off the smooth surface
    of your windowless eyes.

    runny yolks breathing into
    marigold bursts,
    technicolor pixels.


  • Fists join in the
    air rebelling
    against Death,
    living Young.
    Slaughtering Time.


  • As the night
    became morning
    and friends
    became family,
    I fell in love
    with the thought
    of being in love.

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