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May 2013
I.
doubt
is how it starts,
staring into the scars of empty promises burned
into my undilated pupils.
it tasted sweet, like candy- actually, literally, it was candy
dissolving into crystals on my hopeful tongue.

II.
forty five minutes-
potential energy forming kinetic energy overflowing
through my veins, i couldn’t feel anymore-
my toes were tingling
like flaming icicles against my skin
but at that point i was too abstracted to notice
such insignificant physical impulses.

III.
my short term memory is ****.
forget everything, forget which buttons to press.
forgetting feeling
never lasts forever
for a reason

IV.
no substance, no meaning, i guess
i’ll get there, but i’m making progress
by even thinking at all, it’s just a
feeling. an experience, no different
from any other besides its potential but
i am still undecided on how to approach
any of this. disappointment cannot
be avoided sometimes,
only quelled.

V.
mary jane gives
a two and a half foot long kiss;
i can taste the smoke on your lips
as if they were my own, as if i were the smoke
itself, existing only in wisps
that you blow out your mouth.

VI.
i can’t begin to guess how it will end-
since sleep is just like giving in.
twelve hours without boredom is
something that i am addicted to; they are
like day dreams, my eyes were open
wide and unblinking but i swear i wasn’t trying
to see.
Miranda Wang
Written by
Miranda Wang  Fairfax, VA
(Fairfax, VA)   
  794
   Camillia MacQueen, Pen Lux and st64
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