the porch light is
between my fingers, i feel the placebo effects in dream motion, little drags out of you, in blank, vapid smoke and dust, getting that chili pepper out of your front molar, stuck, this is where i am meant to be the porch light is out. inconsistent, diseased, always inside and out, the rush of power when i can look in the mirror and maybe tomorrow i will send that email, if i can pass as hopeful or at least on my way somewhere should i leave? twenty-two and already laughing about twenty-three, about last call and the air feels sharp against the tip of my nose, bitter, tired of sleeping so much, of gushing red roses on billboards for white men lost and sweating above the highway, crown soaked crowd-favorites, i could cry for you if you wanted the porch light is