Oct 15, 2020
Just the Sandwich *
The chubby wind of the morning Buccal
Brought forth broad colors and parallel disgust.
Taken altogether, thursday alive with glazed sunlighlight
I ordered just the sandwich and slept unmasked in my lot car.
Kar auction services has my ass in a snare
The question of conscience burns thick in my silence.
The multitudes dead cling to short moments of luxurious stone.
I'm at the end of the Tahoe now, marking its bitch eyes for the sale.
The kushan chapters and incensed verse of my history of india confound the turning of the lot.
Mayby if I say fuck it, it will all go away.
I dreamed of her side eyes last night.
Dancing in tandem with the bagel bite blues.
How far away she is now.
How close together I still am*
