so you’d find god, not a mother
i follow myself across a blameless bridge and dig my toe into the part of the plank that’s breaking in
do not pick at my irises
nothing burns like a bitch's fangs playing father in the skinned backseat. we're all watched-out, enough now.
i will tell you goodnight instead
i’ve been a stoned fool, cold, breaking-out at the melbourne airport bitching about being a sad seven-year-old
gagged girls at a gas station. we’re remembering everything
gagged at the gas station. salt said she is sweeter scrawny