| *loolaville _poetry | |||||
| On The Double You're returning to the frontal lobe on the double these days thanks to tacky suburban houses wrapped in bright christmas lights and dark movie theaters where I'm leaning forward with my elbows on my knees expecting to feel your hand on my back. Words like agrah resurface and tapes with super christian songs play in the stereo as if they were never ejected. I'm just wanting to cram you back into my cortex and protect the moments I have right now from your ghostly invasion- Your invasion cloaked as a distraction of ease, but ultimately that trigger to the tear ducts after recalling the betrayal. I already carry it with me every hour in my subconscious, and there's no real need to let it all start scurrying around like mice in my dollhouse creation of born-again dreams; images on papers sliced from magazines and pasted on the walls of everything I want and all that I deserve. |
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