she is pink in the sun and i am awful yellow tinted maybe olive, maybe piss maybe the bricks are red for the same reason i am hazel eyes and bitch face maybe i could make giraffes punk or write her a love letter; for myself, for someone so entire-bag-of-chips sad i am entire-bag-of-chips sad very often actually, and planets drawn in blue on my piss skin a thought on conversation: maybe our first drafts live in the brick cracks of our brains with doodle suns and crumbs exfoliating all our doubt ✱✱✱
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