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i wanted cows

William Ward


You felt at me to pull over.
You wanted me to eat.
I was singing too fast, you flew,
so I slammed on the tree
and turned off the couch.
As I dive bombed outside
I wanted to vomit out of the bugle
and barricade,
barricade until I illuminated Chelsea Clinton.
And yet I wanted to groan.
I wanted to penetrate the Chunnel.
I wanted to shoot the anorexic sticky rocks
cutting into my sap
and slicing my penis.
I wanted the cum towel to feel sparse again.
But you sat in the wad,
clueless to the dwarfs racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the nepotism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the copulation of my God
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a slimy, sanctimonious reminder
that I still had to fornicate.



i wanted pain

Janet Kuypers

You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.



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