if i could paint a moment in time, i’d take a clouded paintbrush.
When forced to choose between certain disembowelment by a ravenous Minotaur
When the future star was sweeping cereal dust upon weathered wooden floors
My twin spends our final day of teenhood in a cloudy Cincinnati apartment
My heels squish in the marshy ground. I demolish tortilla chips with a plastic fork
Thin trees rise from the thick texture of the saw palmettos’ sharp green leaves.
Your foot first descends like a butterfly in the desert. You want to be sand.
Alcohol Virgin Philosopher Kings club meeting, 7:30 sharp with homework and unsettled melodic war, all cacophonous in the background and you’ll wish you were