US Represented

Writings

Carnival

The carnival is sick freedom, something less, passing through town, barking forbidden desires, promising an untranslatable ticket to the show. Our parents encouraged this. They wanted us to rub up against something different, strange and welcome, but only for an instant, in the blink of an eye. “Love but don’t touch,” they said, “and don’t admit

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Smoke

I’m smoking, The burning trail choking Deep lungs groping For the nicotine fix It poisons my lips And keeps callers at a distance. My most faithful lover Your smell stays on my lips Long after our last kiss No matter how hard I try keep telling you goodbye You keep coming back And I keep

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Pieces

I am collecting pieces of myself Scattered over years, miles, and memories. Shards of self abandoned and forgotten In the name of growing up. I am collecting pieces of myself. Patching together the things once beloved and left to rust On the shelf of my youth. I am collecting pieces of myself; Calling home parts

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