i don't know what crash means
so
i press down firm
waiting
for the burst
confirm
i'm alive
burn
all the money
autobiographical
homicide
every
syllable i murmur goes
up
like flash paper
if
inflammable
and
flammable have
the
same meaning then
who
will i be when i emerge unburnt?
silence
is itching mosquitoes
drowned
night on the town
if
only i had
taken
account
for
all of the chance
independently,
read between it all
read
myself to bed instead
found
a fine passage
thrust
it into young
arms
begging dumbly
overtures
false as
that
other one's lashes
conversation
lacking and
no
womanhood yet
here
i panic like
a
little child lost
in
retail neon
i
can't pull myself away even to sulk
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