Abora

pray for thine pastries

9/29/19 1201AM

 

quietly, the autumn wind

rolls through me

 

the most pleasant air

for me to pollute

 

like puffs of smoke, memories

flood into my eyes and it stings

 

look away, tall greys

lurking beyond the tree line

 

every demon I need comes from styrofoam

or inside of me

 

I ponder:

 

why do moths flock

to this death stick i poison myself with?

 

surely my odor

outweighs my light

 

I watched a man make chocolate pie

with pulverized oreos

a globular fudge filling

and a strawberry rose on top

 

and I brushed it with brandy



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