By: Katarina Bishop
Last fall, when boys went down
I could only think,
but now, when you say.
the taste isn't so candy
I want to burn the XXX video sections.
Let's say you're driving, and a demon tells you
"Hey boy, this is it!"
At the moment I think
I wouldn't seem so undoable.
Scars suddenly lost their flavor?
Carve my teeth
on the suburban sidewalks,
and I’ll replace them with
of Gold Rush ghosttown leftovers;
I can pull carats anytime
your breast decides to cave to liquor.
Another round, this time let's hear
your sincerest pleasure.
Pretend euphoriants never overindulge, and that
sighing 9/11 survivors convert to Islam, or that
your skin never purples
from all the hits you took.