reakirante, parto tri

dang it
I’ve got glitter in my eyes
it makes it tremendously hard to see
more distracting than rose-colored glasses

in a room full of art
I’d still stare at you
or I would, if my eyes weren’t red and burning
you think you’re soap, clean and beloved
but you’re irritating to my sight

now I’ve got a migraine
fish dishwashers are insane
pulsing behind my eyes
and making my brain throb
like there’s a bomb in my brain about to explode

if ghosts are real
they’re having a real hoot at us now
come look at the blind stumbler
and his blue boy lover


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