Literature
Hungrier
The trees are turning by and by; we can no longer claim
Innocent-by-stander-ship.
We are participants in this aging process,
So stop bleaching your face, please.
Let it flush and flake out your window.
Tomorrow comes;
Holding hands becomes pretentious.
We are the next generation,
Hurling our arms out of car windows,
Unfurling virgin wings as we pass everything on the interstate.
--
You've got me eating my cheeks
[Inside out]
Filling cavities with blood because
I'm afraid I've forgotten how it feels to swallow.
--
You've got me rubbing your neck,
Just so when I curl to sleep in the backseat,
The residual smell