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Third Wheel Things.

The expendable existence. That uncomfortable rat on your skin. The cut in your gums that bleeds when you chew. The last feasible member to fit on an ascending elevator. Warm. Hot. Itching. The spinach in your teeth. The tear in your jeans located too close to “there” The treacherous unzipped jean fiasco. That crumb on your face. Where is it? ‘To the left’ Is it gone? ‘A little more’ How ‘bout now? ‘Got it.’ The untied shoe. The untucked shirt. The eyelash stranded on your face. The rainy wedding day. The gold earring under the fridge. The luggage thats flying to London instead of Zimbabwe. These are the unwanted little honeybees of everyday being. cracked mirrors, guitar-snapped strings, welts of fire and third wheel things.
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Written by
conor-oleary
Published
Feb 9, 2013
Lines·Words
32·125
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