Scribbles on the 3rd of August

Laser point eyeliner with a jet black top
she stares.


I dreamt you were in a refrigerator, and
would not come out. We were at a party

and there were people all around. There
was some faceless dream-girl I was

eagerly conversing with. But you wouldn’t
get out of the fridge. I left you there once,

but came back–not for a beer or anything
just to see how you were. You still wouldn’t

come out. You could hardly look at me, and
I started and cried and still you were silent

and in the fridge. Eventually I think I left again.

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