Poem: “Run.” Charisma Lawler

Exhale through your mouth
let go of December rain
push faster.
Clear skin makes up for murder.
7.45 is the time to beat.
I’m not a saint.
7.45 and you can sleep.
Forget the dagger.
Forget the demons.
Late nights in destitute lots.
Lighters and Jack.
Lips and panties.
Push. Go.
Past the trees,
past the traffic.

Who could love this kind of girl?
Especially since –
7.47
Worthless piece of shit.

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