poetry
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confessions

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i like to sleep.
i drink ungodly amounts of poison
at home because people and bad music
are not on my list of favorite things.
hangovers hurt just as much acquired
in your own house with blinds turned down.
three types of whiskey on the counter
eliminate the desire to see children
ride their bikes on the sidewalk and
to have children who ride their bikes
on the sidewalk. i am not brave enough
to find another form of pain. no shower
in three days makes deodorant caked
and layered so now underneath arms is white.
hair was washed in another life where
there was mango shampoo and where
legs were shaved at end of bathtub ritual.
hair does not always get get braided
in mornings–sometimes it goes wild
off to one side because i want to look
unapproachable. i wish i could make my behavior match my body but i’m just so good at smiling.
they say to use your gifts.
no one knows i should win an academy award.

This entry was posted in: poetry

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