it’s not leaving

you feel nothing

it’s not your fault

to a fault

in my hair

in your smile

how its stares

walk the miles

for the biggest dare

is the problem

is the problem

that I care

is that the problem?

I feel my petals

on the floor

I smell metal

in your pores

I can’t take

I can’t take

anything anymore

my fingers push buttons

in the air

without knowing

without slowing

I can scream

scream to

the shores

but it’s not leaving

it’s not leaving


*can speak seven dialects of subterranean punk, 45 and a half Keith Richard dialects.

*mixes with cinnamon girls and gold dust women

*blows kisses to the clouds.

*is an INFP

*creating > consuming

*is currently rewriting the Suburban Dictionary

*is a third born unicorn

*is a rebel without a clue

*cannot drink hot drinks without burning her mouth

*cannot petition the sun for flare

*wears metaphorical pants and monsters.

*wishes she were the moon tonight.

*one of these strange days she will be caught in the celebration of the lizard.


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