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 Nov 2016 Sierra
oui
red slip
 Nov 2016 Sierra
oui
two thousand nine hundred and forty six microscopic tiny shards of glass stuck in my hand is the only equivalent feeling to hearing your name

six months later and i keep finding hidden pieces in my palms

/ just when i thought my hands were numb i saw the silky red dress i wore the day my hand hit the glass and all i want to do is throw up
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Mitch Nihilist
adolescent women
below adulthood,
high in heels,
and validating
worth by regret
and planting
seeds in beds
of alcohol,
pulling over
sheets of hair
in dorm room cemeteries,
seeking acceptance
in snowless Januaries,
because the
beginning is
supposed to be
this cold
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Mitch Nihilist
I’ve quit smoking 6 times,
quit drinking 4,
the intervals are
sparse and unworthy,
I wear jeans with
dainty holes
from cigarette butts,
my breath wreaks
of a mixture,
and my cologne
surmounts the
insurmountable,
I’ll look skyward on
chilled nights
and try to decipher
between smoke and breath,
I’ll purposefully wear worn socks
to give the sought useless
a purpose,
I’ll run soapy loofas
over scabbed knuckles
for punishment and end up
enjoying the sting,
I’ll tie ties to tight
and my shoes to loose,
I’ll scrutinize grammar,
and misspell because
hypocrisy makes me *****,
I pick at calluses until they bleed
I’ll **** on ****** hangnails
cause I like the coppery taste,
I’ll never litter,
and I fight at bars,
I drink alone now,
but I’ve quit 4 times,
allow me to put into perspective
that quitting anything
has moved from an elective
to becoming eclectic,
and new habits,
for me, don’t replace
old ones but squeeze them in
to a car destined at a dead end,
but what doesn’t **** me now,
makes death so much sweeter
in the finale.
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Mitch Nihilist
I listened as a mouse struggled
to escape a half empty frozen coffee cup,
it took a while for me to understand
where the rustling was coming from,
I stared down the open lid
and saw glossy eyes
squinting up as me, as if I was the sun,
and my first instinct was to bring him outside,
I poured him on the frozen ground
and noticed as his legs were chilled, dead.
I placed him back in the cup,
put the lid on,
and breathed into the lid
giving him all the warmth
I could give,
his chest moving like
metronome trying to break
though his skin,
I could hear the ticking of his
heartbeat like a broken clock,
there was no chance,
his eyes opened and
stayed shut longer,
his legs stayed dead,
so I put the coffee cup
on the frozen grass,
closed my eyes
and stomped
like it was a cockroach,
I sparked a cigarette.
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Mitch Nihilist
I wonder what type of whiskey
the man painting road lines
at 3am drinks,
am I stereotyping
or am I foreshadowing
my trip to the liquor store
in 10 years?

MJB
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Mitch Nihilist
pouring another glass  
is peeling a hangnail
down with your teeth,
a monotonous ****
will only draw blood
to surface,
waking up is now
a monotonous signature
on a death certificate,
a tedious magnificent
and I’m still here
and my calligraphy
is becoming magnificent
 Nov 2016 Sierra
Kareena
We aren't really kids anymore
Yet I still care for you as a child does
With a trusting nature and a wonder
But I want you like a woman does
In all of those ways
In every aspect of the phrase
 Oct 2016 Sierra
mrs kite
the ideals of chemistry say that
the spaces between particles are
negligible.

the crinkles, vortexes are nothing,
distance between skin and hands,
insignificant.

the matter doesn't matter, yet
i feel the chasms growing wider,
gaping.

we are both naïve
but only i detect our ground
splitting.
title from penguin cafe orchestra piece
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