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Would Anyone Care for Some Esspresso?

Not done yet

My very good friend,
You should not have regretted the prodigy that effortlessly
bled down the roads in your
unquestionable psilocybin mind.
It consumed the lucidity that, at a point, resided to something of a prehuman,
in your catatonia because there was hardly an original brain behind your eyes.
Scared like a child, you had no backbone, invertebrate rather.
I swear he still had 'em though, I could hear them rattling.
It was funny cause he resurrected after he had been nursing on the floor.
So I says,
“Arthur!
          Son of God!
                Will you please!
                      Chill the fuck out! ”
“YES!! I DO have BONES!”
 
               (He sobs)
 
“ I KILLED my sister!
           I died...
                 in a plane crash
                       When I jumped off my bridge! ”
Subsequently,
Breaks my house in half and cries,
because there’s no way
we could ever fix it.

(2013)

true story

Other works by Abbigail Quinn...



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