white shirt.
tassled fabric
messy hair, collected stature.
she began.
one knee bent.
right leg locked.
left leg loose.
looser than my joints.
her dates have stories.
attatched and intertwined with each number.
"four years on the streets", she said.
chemicals were for breakfast.
a small needle for snack.
time with him for lunch.
cold air and a sidewalk for dinner.
"i'll be fine", she mumbled.
that's what i thought.
About Me.
- Emma Cherry
- In a yellow sumbarine, Liechtenstein
- We must blend into the choir Sing as static with the whole. We must memorize nine numbers and Deny we have a soul. And in this endless race for property and Privilege to be won. We must run, we must run, we must run.
