Photo by Randy Jacob on Unsplash
Gaoline, bleach, and Kool-aid, swallowed straight.
Dancing, wearing shoes without socks, in bed.
Salads of plastics and rocks that I ate.
I let films play with no end in my head.
I found no pleasure in these things at all.
Scrolling down my screen provided no hope.
A broken mirror, a hole in the wall.
I ran out of ways I could cope.
Like stumbling on a superpower.
A smile, haply landing on me, my own.
No ire left over, no taste can be sour.
Sharpened teeth bititng into me, alone.
Flowers in my stomach have begun growing,
in hope someday sunshine I might be knowing.


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