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Poetry & Prose | March 25, 2013

She’s like a super model with the hair like that
Jesus this one’s face is gross it’s so shiny
But those legs go up to her fucking neck, I guess I’ll leave it tagged.

The faces next to my face—
Nostalgic vignettes with made-up resolutions and the Allstate commercial in a different tab plays wrap-up music
Me or Alec Baldwin,
I’m not sure who’s my better friend.

Conversations I can’t have with people who don’t exist and my thumb keeps going up
and up and up,
Compulsion,
Explode that red box
Devour people I’ve met
gnawing at their limbs and at their faces
Come back red box
Talk to me faces
Show my your guts or I’ll use my teeth again

Pawing at a virtual magazine
«Fall colors: Bulky Sweater» and «Lazy, Hazy Summer»
A flat face reflected back into my face
Shadowy outline lurking behind warm catalog scenes of christmas parties and awards ceremonies

Never shut the machine down
The black refelction of some gruesome stalker
My lonesome gaze and no eyeliner on