Isaac always managed to scrounge up the craziest shit after a failed show. Beck could sense it as Isaac smiled serenely in the passenger seat, the potholed street rattling their combined life-savings in music equipment. Whatever drug it was, it couldn’t be worse than someone spilling their beer on Beck’s custom pedal board. Which already...
I don’t really like the first one. Wide eyes, array of flyways, and half-hearted attempts to Hide a five o’clock shadow. The morphology of my face. Neon pink glitter nails and nylon Camping tents. I pose shirtless. Bearing bleached cutoff shorts. And twisting clavicles. Rearranging fabric and unwinding curls, I put myself together then deconstruct ...
Hey, could you lay your forearm on my leg And hold still so the nail polish won’t smudge? With the window propped, fumes rise straight to my head. Fingertips alight with biotic touch. Our fingers tangle between lip-gloss shine, And swallowing stones. Girlhood rituals. Except I’ve not been a girl in a long time, And...
