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Sketcher Nov 2018
Although the world is ****** and I'd rather leave than stay,
There are many things I'm thankful for on this fine holiday,
Today I'll talk about people and things,
That make life a little more worth living,
These people and things remove all the stings,
Of pain I'm taking daily and giving,
A little more will make a bigger change,
Time for my attitude to rearrange,
Temporarily so I can say nice stuff,
Time to begin, that intro was enough,

I'm thankful for Skyrim through Arena,
I'm thankful for my mother Kristina,
I'm thankful for Toontown and its trolley,
I'm thankful for my lil' sister Zoe,
I'm thankful for all the love that one stole,
Cause now she will have a small part of me,
I'm thankful for my step-father Joel,
I'm thankful for TV shows and movies,
I'm thankful for this superb holiday,
So I can easily spread all my thanks,
I'm thankful for little tiny JJ,
And sometimes all of his crazy high jinks,
I'm thankful for pouring out whiskey, gin,
And other alcoholic beverages,
I'm thankful for the removal of sin,
And Jesus deciding what leverage is,
I'm thankful for my ancestors kin,
I'm thankful for my sister Adalyn,
I'm thankful for peoples divinity,
I'm thankful for my sister Trinity,
I'm thankful for Japan, chopsticks, and tea,
I'm thankful for the greatest homeboy D,
I'm thankful for big meals, good food, and feasts,
I'm thankful for my ex-girlfriend Tranyce,
I'm thankful for firsts, I'll punch you, sue me,
I'm thankful for the very tall Tui,
I'm thankful for rain and windy weather,
I'm thankful for the beautiful Heather,
I'm thankful for her brother named Erick,
And her other brother that is name Ray,
Their whole **** family is quite hysteric,
But hanging with them will brighten my day,
Thankful for the culminating project,
And the fact that I'm done cause they waived this,
I'm thankful for Smash Bros., I'm never rekt,
I'm thankful for wise ol' Mr. Davis,
I'm thankful for teacher Mr. Thompson,
Judo Sensei that knows how to whomp em',
I'm thankful for the roof over my head,
I'm thankful for my blankets and my bed,
I'm thankful for good brownies and hot rolls,
I'm thankful for my cool father Michael,
I'm thankful for past presidents life Ronald Reagan,
I'm thankful for my aunt on my moms side name Megan,
I'm thankful for the police that jail *****,
I'm thankful for my buff uncle Damick,
I'm thankful for lists made of pros and con,
I'm thankful for my other uncle Jon,
I'm thankful for pirate ships matey,
I'm thankful for my old grandpa Tracy,
I'm thankful for envelops that senda,
Letter and money from my grandma Brenda,
I'm thankful for Disney, Belle to Moana,
I'm thankful for my good friend Adriana,
I'm thankful for known facts and secrets, do tell
I'm thankful for a good friend named Miguel,
All these friends are such nice and kind fellas,
I'm thankful for a good friend named Ella,
I'm thankful for cats and their perfect pur,
I'm thankful for our late cat named Ginger,
I'm thankful for good smells and their freshness,
I'm thankful for our current cat precious,
I'm thankful for American and foreign dollah's,
I'm thankful for a black slug that we have named Nala,
I am thankful for Demetri's family,
Will, Dylan, Erick, and sleepy time tea,
Sometimes Nicole has me over for DnD,
I'm thankful for the oxygen coming from the trees,
I'm thankful for hope and the act of wishing,
I'm thankful for the oldest son Christina,
I'm thankful for music, rap, rock, and grunge,
I'm thankful for breakfast, dinner, and lunch,
I'm thankful for all family and friends,
I'm thankful for forgiveness and amends,
I'm thankful for X and the dead Lil Peep,
I'm thankful for the awake and asleep,
I'm thankful for skittles and good candy,
And Eminem, Marshall Mathers, dandy,
I'm thankful for swervers and people that stay in their own lane,
I'm thankful for Nirvana and specifically Kurt Cobain,
I'm thankful for drawing, painting, grass, and moss,
I'm thankful for the best painter, Bob Ross,
I'm thankful for Karate and Thai Chi,
Judo, Jeet-Kun-Do, and of course, Bruce Lee,
I'm thankful for drinks and fun house parties,
I'm thankful for squirm words like, "Farties",
I'm thankful for heavy metal and silence,
I'm thankful for Altoids, bubblegum, and mints,
I'm thankful for manga, comics, and novels,
Anime, and problems that are solvable,
I'm thankful for the nice clothes on my back,
I'm thankful for a great actor, Jack Black,
I'm thankful for watching the poem just go,
I'm thankful for Panic! at the disco,
I'm thankful for the singing and the dance,
I'm thankful for My Chemical Romance,
I'm thankful for all the lord of the rings,
I'm thankful for the books by Stephen King,
I'm thankful for the high highs and low lows,
I'm thankful for the greatest Burnham, Bo,
I'm thankful for zoos and the skilled handlers,
I'm thankful for the great Adam *******,
I'm thankful for the truthful and liars,
I'm thankful for great Robin Doubtfire,

I'm thankful for that feeling that's serene,
When you're chest to chest with one that will lean,
Towards you at any given moment,
And will give you love and their condolence,
And then they flee to somewhere else,
And you end up being someone else,
And they end up seeing someone else,
So your heart just gives up and melts,
But whatever feeling I'm feeling,
If I am feeling then I'm grateful,
Emotions must be constantly reeling in,
So I don't get lost in the dull sense of numb.
Thank You
A thanksgiving poem.
Kevin Feb 2017
Altoids, Bronners, Composition, and Deceptive Evil
Lay still and mechanically move
closer toward your hands
your glasses are befitting to your face
your eyes befitting to both
you look befitting to me.
looks are nothing but deceptive evil
womans words are befitting of that.
captivated by deception,
sweetly selling certain death,
dosed into a daze when decieved.
your eyes catch mine in two moments of deception
captivating enough to wish that i were blind
your hands and eyes and being before me
befit the deceptions believed
oh so sweetly did i believe.
Autumn Mar 2014
Four Years.
Four years
of high school basketball:
has come to an abrupt halt.

You see, we'd swag into the locker room.
Pump up the tunes.
throw on the black air Jordan jump suits
and whip out the pre-game moves.

The three coaches walked in
We listened to the pre-game speech
Popped a couple altoids to "keep it fresh"
then slugged a bit of water

The warm up commenced
Lay-ups
Three on Two
Shooting

One more locker room run.
Jersy's on!
But right back on to the court
Where the fans anticipate.

Just a few more shots
Now one minute left
Time for the National Anthem.
"Gentlemen remove your hats."

Pre-game nerves suddenly sink in.
"Oh say can you see."
Thoughts about the game fill my mind.
I look at the crowd, and my loving team mates.

"And now for tonights starting line-up."
Names announced.
Team has last minute words
one. two. three. "swag" ....Tip-off!

We were so good.
So athletic.
A team with 8 returning seniors
we were such ballers

Conference Champs
District Champs
But we couldn't beat them
"The best team in the state."

We weren't sad about the loss though.
We were sad that we had to leave this team.
This team that we'd been with for four years.
We loved each other more than anything.

The final moments in the locker room were bittersweet.
Tears of sadness, tears of joy
We accomplished so much, but above all
It was about the memories we made together.
ohh I'm gonna miss this
Amariah Clift Dec 2014
Two things make sense to me more than most.
1) Coasters
2) Breath mints

Coffee table stains wreak havoc on the souls of the real housewives of orange county.
Luckily enough, at least they're round.
Round means it can fit in the flea circus act we put on with our climbing, lion taming, fire-breathing...elbows.
Lean only one and the stain strains to breath, draft both into the spots and still, it will not leave.
Lines skew thresholds built on years of careful photosynthesis and the apparent relapse of lumber Jack's axe.
Breath mints ease the minds of young lovers too ignorant to realize they'll smell like dreams and ******* anyways.
Like trying to turn a used diaper into a ****** trapped inside an enormous pastry. Directions: Bake at 450degrees for 30-35 minutes, remove and frost with cream.
Altiods and tic-tac gang wars. Keep your enemies close?
Well, see who makes it on the conveyor belt to my mud-hole mouth.
I do not buy them for myself, I buy them for YOU! precious 6th grade crush, if only you loved me for my peppermint fog.
I wish I had remembered to brush my teeth this morning.
Martin Narrod Nov 2015
there's not a place like this around
where i don't want myself around
dirt, hair, and soot inside the air purifier
so many orange and white bottles on the ground

dollars, masking tape, and cologne
Dior, Hermes, and Altoids upon Altoids tins
cigarettes and hand-rolled goods,
Vice magazines and fashion too

The things I keep in my bed are worse off
Than halves of horses heads that
Even Hollywood couldn't direct.
Until I set fire to the oil paintings and the books

At morning I'll count my rock collection of ****** conquests
And bury them like dead birds in shallow graves in the neighbor's yard
Kathy Z Sep 2013
Her smile is beautiful
but it trembles ever so slightly
so that you can hardly see it
an autumn leaf, in the middle of fall
deciding whether or not to break from the branch

Her laugh is tentative
deciding whether or not to really let go
and her laugh is shaky
a small accidental vibrato in her throat
that catches its tremor ever so slightly


And her words wash over you,
accompanied by the cool breath of Altoids
and a leaf of the iceberg salad that she had for lunch
(no dressing please)

When she walks into a room
the air stills
not because she holds presence,
but merely because she lacks it
a rippling shadow that's gray and silver
against the dark ebony of the chalkboard

Her shoulders are ***** and upright
stiff and still
like a solider's stance
when standing at 'attention' in the middle of a battle
with the same dead expression
of seeing too much
that you want to go blind because of that
with the same stiff arms
that grip a pencil tightly
so that the whites of her knuckles are prominent and jutting
and you fear that the wood will snap under her detached temper


But her tears are not beautiful
because frankly,
sadness is not beautiful in itself
when it's on the page that you're reading
further ahead, maybe
but not in the present

And this is a girl who strives to be normal
without even looking up the definition
who eats skimpy iceberg salads at lunch with friends who all

have pizza and fries  
who constantly buys Altoids so frequently that she has a whole

box in her room full of empty tins
who is more aware of herself than anyone else
and this is a girl
who is insecure
A girl who loves without return
A girl who can laugh and cry and be just fine the next day
A girl who swears on a god that she doesn't necessarily believe
A girl who feels something when a boy smiles at her just the right way
A girl who is you
MRosen Oct 2020
Creative. Stubborn. Those are the words that describe Kestrel when she makes food. She makes the food from her mind. No help. Never recipes. Sometimes the food is yummy, like a plump juicy tomato coated in a thick covering of butter, cheese, and salt. Sometimes however, it turns out bad. And I mean really bad. Like the time she made banana toothpaste. I yawned and stretched my arms as I wandered downstairs in the morning. I was hoping for a bowl of sweet cereal and cool milk. When I came down there was no cereal. There was instead a sheet of mashed up bananas. Above the mush was Kestrel, happily adding a white powder that could be salt, sugar, or crushed up altoids. There was no way to tell. When I asked her what it was, she said “Banana toothpaste”. I stuck out my tongue at her, making my eyebrows into little arches, and walked away. Another time, I asked Kestrel why she never uses recipes. Her answer was “I like to create”. I wonder who she will turn out to be. Sometimes I see her watching her shows and I worry. I want her to be her own person. And then I remember the toothpaste. “Banana toothpaste. Banana toothpaste.” She’ll be okay. No, she’ll be amazing. My little sis and her banana toothpaste.
pt 3 of my vignette series
Caleb Jaren Feb 2010
Spearmint altoids and espresso
doubleshot headphones
hardly used Palm(seems not 1 for organization)
Empty jewel cases strewn over
the pine expanse3 monitors burn, an insistent
cyclopean glare w/the accompanying mice
notebooks' aged paper curled
'round circuit board controller cards
and holographic stickers open
hard drive aluminum platter white
cordless phone 2.4 GHz
floppy discs USB
milk glass opalescent bag
industrial lasagna fork canted sideways
tomes beckon
Cybershock
Snowcrash palpitations
PANIC! k_trap trap type 0x000000E flickers
attempting to dump 32 years
physical memory
Failed!
User I/O = NULL
Lauren R Sep 2016
White lines on the kitchen table.
Your head, C10H15N,
Altoids box under the keyboard.
Your heart, C21H23NO5,
Syringes up your sleeve. ***** on your chest.
Your veins, C18H21NO3,
Dropping acid like the Aztecs.
Your tongue, C20H25N3O,
What will it take to strip your blood down
to the salt and the rust?
5 more Klonopin, 5 more Xanax,
you're on the floor,
a boring story,
I've heard it before.
Keep it far from me.
(You're not close enough. Please.)
Chemistry is your best friend, your worst enemy.
Ayeglasses Apr 2013
It's odd how the craziest things help.
Such as a tin of Altoids on top of a shelf.
Helps the ideal failure of self.
To some.
Jeremy Duff Jul 2013
My wine is on the top shelf of my closet, inside a suit case.
One pack of cigarettes rests inside of my nightstand.
My Vicodin lies in the back of the same nightstand in a small red envelope.
My **** is in an Altoids tin sandwiched between my two mattresses, by the window.
Another pack of cigarettes is in the front pocket of my backpack accompanied by a lighter.
Another lighter is in clear view on my nightstand.
Three 70 mg Oxycontin are in an allergy pill container underneath my bed.
My tobacco pipe and tobacco are in an old medical kit on the second shelf of my book shelf.

I love you mom.
More than all these things
and the fact that I feel that I have to let you know that makes me very, very sad.
The other day I restocked on peppermint Altoids,
when I always buy the spearmint.
And I'm not sure why,
but thinking about tequila makes me smile.

I've been feeling a lot more lately,
In quantity over quality.
And I haven't been able to place it,
but with the passing days the music's become acoustic.

Between the coffee and the beers,
Father John Misty preaches away my fears.
And although I've disagreed with today,
I know tomorrow w̶e̶'̶l̶l̶ I'll be okay.
February 12th, 2016
Draft to Single Edited Version
Nicole Lourette Dec 2010
flying into Chi-town
Altoids of various sizes
litter the scenery.
An artfully constructed
playset thrown off
by the skilled placement
of refreshing breath mints.
Maybe they’re off brand,
or perhaps ecstasy,
though I don’t see any
smiley faces or hearts.

I like to look for high school
tracks as we descend.
Forget the football fields,
they’re far less interesting.
Mostly black, though
sometimes gravel, dirt
or red and even
purple once,
though not in Chi-town.
The homestretch extending beyond
each curve;
no hurdles in sight
much less a sand pit.

A mile inland
there is some sort of water.
The body scattered
and split like some
kind of man-made accident.
shallow sand banks
invisible from the ground look
like dead whales.
floating (submersed) there
like lifeless, sandy corpses.
Maybe it’s because of my “Free *****” spree,
but I see whales.

I’ve never been to Chicago,
only in and out of the airport
and catching glimpses of what I
can see through the windows
of Midway.
My good friend has flown with
me once, but we parted at the
big city.
Have you ever wondered why
cities are built like mountains?
the tallest buildings in the
center with everything
else leading up to it?
Kinda like that Verizon commercial
with the magnet and lead…
Maybe I’ll Google it
to find an answer.

There’s a private airport a
little closer.
(Too good for Southwest to land
there). Private jets and runways
too classy to have a White
Castle across the expressway
from it.
They have cornfields.

Even closer now.
The houses larger with matching
sheds and identical roves.
Almost all have pools, makes
sense for a windy city like
Chi-town.
Some are covered and
nasty for the impending
winter. Playsets and driveways,
minimal trees.
I wonder if the children
ever get scared when
the shadow of a 700 series
darkens their windows and slides.
If they look up and feel warmth
in their Children’s Place pants,
throwing their ice cream to the
wind and catapulting into
the comfort of their father’s
arms and then
write about it 13 years
later after they get off that plane.

“Thank you for flying with us
today, please come back and
see us soon.”

A desperate cry for profit
rachel Oct 2013
Climbing out of bed
On cold fall nights to
Stand on balconies
Because life is too much to handle

Anxiety ridden words fall from your mouth
As your voice spikes

"You haven't stopped smoking all night"

Pulling cigarettes from an Altoids case
Where you've kept it hidden
Holding fire filled paper to your lips

Inhale, exhale

Breathing in the bad and releasing the good
Killing your body with the chemicals that you use to make yourself feel better

*You don't feel better
Jade Mar 2019
I had my first kiss at the cinema, the contour of our silhouettes illuminated by the glow of the rolling credits. He tasted like Altoids and cigarettes, an ambivalent concoction of ice and fire. At one point, I'd bitten him by accident. Whether this was a manifestation of inexperience or (seductively, with heat in her eyes) hunger,  I'm not sure. But, sitting there in the thrill of My Something New, I was certain of one thing: this was a red carpet moment, the stuff of silver screens and glimmering Hollywood starlets and rows of type writer ribbon waiting to be transposed into something theatrical.

After the film, we sat outside a cafe a block over, the fever of summer adhering to the back of our necks like (giggling) misplaced hickeys. Smoke corkscrewing from the end of his parliament, he told me how John F. Kennedy was addicted to opioids. I couldn't help but think back to earlier that afternoon when he first admitted to being a smoker. How he'd asked me, "Is this going to be a problem for you?" hesitation rising up his throat like bile.

I smiled because 'Everyone's got their poison," I replied.  

And poison? Well, there's something so strikingly poetic about it, don't you agree?

(beat.)

JFK must have been Marilyn Monroe's poison, I think.

"So," I offered, "What do you really think happened to Marilyn Monroe?"

"How do you mean?" he said between drags of his cigarette.

"I mean was it really an overdose or--"

"Was it an assassination?" he interjected.

"Mhmmm."

Another drag of his cigarette.

"As they say, the simplest answer is often the correct one."

"Maybe. (beat.) But what makes for the better story?"

After two weeks of courtship, he took his leave. My mother's obvious, unwarranted disapproval was, perhaps, a source of anxiety for him. Me being freshly eighteen, he was also concerned about that (sarcastically) whoppin' three year age gap. (beat.) Not fully buying it, are ya?

Well, neither did I.

Here's my theory: his feelings (or lack thereof) were the reason he called it quits. And instead of being a man--instead of being honest, instead of owning up to the true nature of his intentions--he spun some relatively believable excuse. A coward's way of removing himself from a situation he doesn't want to be in. Surprisingly enough, I wasn't as disappointed as I would have anticipated, had I foreseen the end of our fleeting romance.

I was (beat.) fine.

It does make for a great story, after all. (wryly) But you knew that already.

Because for every Norma Jean, there's always a Marilyn Monroe.

Tell me then--who are you?

(beat.)

Girl curtsies, transitioning into a tableau of Marilyn Monroe's iconic pose wherein she attempts to hold down her dress as the air from a nearby subway grate threatens to expose her undergarments.

Lights fade out.

{Fin}
Don't be a stranger--check out my blog!

jadefbartlett.wixsite.com/tickledpurple

(P.S. Use a computer to ensure an optimal reading experience.)
Kole J McNeil Oct 2021
I grabbed the lighter off the counter
I walked outside
It was late
I was home alone that night
I sat on the side of the sand box in front of my house
My hand was shaking
I was exausted
I was stressed
I just needed something
Anything

I pull the Cigarette from the altoids tin I hid it in
I pull it up to my lips
I flick the ligter and a flame shoots up
I light the end and take a deep breath it
The end glows with red embers
Suddenly everything is quiet
I exhale blowing out the smoke
It's the last gohst of my inncoence that floats away
I take another breath in and am filled with a silent minds

My mind is finally quiter
After years of no stop chatter
All is quiet
I don't know how too keep them quiet without them. It was the first time I felt actually calm
I longed to go to sleep.

But, when I got off stage,
a friend opened her Altoids tin,
offering me some smarties candy.

As I picked one up,
she smiled and said:
"no, no; take two."

"What is it?" I asked
as I chewed the two up.
She winked and ate the last three.

Now I'm grateful I can't sleep even though I really should.
I suppose, though, the real test will be tomorrow.
Funny how that works.
Alexander Coy Nov 2016
You are a bundle of baby blue balloons
tied to the rail of a gate; the entrance
of used car parking lot.

A man, who
goes by the name Joe is doing his
damnedest to pawn off an old mustang,
the year: unknown -- he has yet
to be familiar with specific car models;
he was the manager of
Costco for 20 years before
getting fired for ****** harassment.

His wife is at home.

He speaks two different languages.

You over hear him, and can't help
but giggle to yourself, each of You
swaying in midair like the fur
of a dandelion.

It must be nice to have two sets
of limbs, upper and lower body
movement; it looks as if
a clusterfuck of genius
has taken the form
of flesh.

Perplexed, You
let one of You
go. You never come
back down.

This is easy
You think.

Joe has failed again; this is 3rd time
today; unable to muster up the courage
to call his wife for support he turns
to a little coke he has in an old
Altoids case kept in his left pocket.

The restroom is where
all the *****, shameful
practices of humans take place;

You call it: "The Encasement of Perserverence"

Clever thought, You say to Yourself

drifting there, alone in Your
grave of gravity.

I see You and wave, but You
pretend to not notice me
and continue to float
like a cloud.

Joe comes back, sits on a red
chair outside the main entrance;
where the sliding glass doors
no longer slide. He hums
a sweet little tune; Simple Man
by Lynyrd Skynard.

You sing along, but through
your film so no one can
comment on Your bad pitch.

It's another day in Tuscon, Arizona.

The sun begins to set.

And we're sulking like undiscovered
mermaids under this umbrella
of 'what the **** do we do now?'

Night will come soon; hinder our progress
with it's unique way of settling the score.

There is no stillness, and You're
no longer a bundle of baby blue;

You are a bomb bound to burst
once the needle of morning
discovers where You live.
Grace Haak Nov 2019
she is put together
twenty-four seven
breath of peppermint
perfume of floral heaven
she is perfectly mannered
exceptionally kind
you'd never notice
everything else on her mind
she is incredibly smart
her words are so witty
tied off with a ribbon
just to make them look pretty
she is never not smiling
all happy-go-lucky
the best mask to put out
when her days are just sucky
she is friendly to all
personality of bubbles
the kind of person who wants
you to forget all your troubles

but she is more than just
a tin of altoids always on hand
a spritz of marc jacobs to make her smell grand
a perfectly proper dollop of grace
an unworried smile on an unconcerned face
a paper fine-tuned and turned in on time
a colorful poem with many-hued rhymes

she is constantly tired
a string ball of stress
sometimes she can't be bothered
so today her hair is a mess
she is sometimes unhappy
sometimes stuck in the pain
so being silent and distant
might help keep her sane
she is incredibly stubborn
needs to have the last line
born with a hard nose
she refuses to resign
she is not so perfect
she will constantly fail
but if there's one thing she is
it's someone who will prevail

yes, she is a can of la croix
and all things filled with joy
but silver packages all wrapped
can keep treasures trapped
so take her as she is
all the sour and sweet
because without all these things
she wouldn't be complete.
R R Aug 2016
On this porch I feel like reminiscing.
With an old friend about all the times we've shared.
It's a bitter winter night and the clouds on my breath hold a scent so familiar.
All those empty promises, the shared cigarettes that burnt the cement between you and I.
Kisses with nicotine breaths, burning cigarettes between our lips as we played cards.
War would be played for hours on end. Till we realized that there was no cigarette to calm these waves of emotions that overflow within us.
Last year on a night like this we were bundle in a blanket talking about where we'd be a year from then.
Apparently neither of us were close to the truth.
Our last cigarette is still crumbled in the Altoids Ash tray.
I'm here on this porch with an old friend, and you're not here to share this moment with me.
A bottle of ***** and some cigarettes are here to help me forget.
That this old friend is my worse enemy, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that maybe till death do us part is all a lie.
Because in this moment it has never seemed that you and I aren't so far apart if death could only come and take me as well.
the wallflower Feb 2018
" I see my altoids box where i used to keep my razor blades and pins . I see the empty space where my door used to hang . I see my empty wall that used to be full of vibrant possibilities . I see my broken mirror . I see my self inflicted wounds "
" I can touch my chest and feel my heart beating rapidly beneath it . I can touch my collar bone that is jutting out of my body . I can touch the pens that write my words when I cannot speak them . I can touch my tears that are falling down my face . "
" I can hear voices that are telling me to commit ***** crimes . I can hear mice scurrying through my walls . i can hear my brothers sound asleep . "
" I can smell my mixture of perfumes . I can smell blood from my arms . "
" I can taste salt water leaking from my eyes "
call . at least try
Fionn Jul 22
The stale taste in your mouth grating
only remedied by more mints that melt away
into only more staleness.
some of your body is too warm and some of it cool
some of it itches from this shuttle bus seat which has crumbs from the last person who sat here.
The livid clouds outside are shifting across the sky, shirking nightfall, the street lamps fulgurating, giving the bus interior a ghastly glow.
there is not enough to look at, to listen to, to do, just the temporary sensations
of ******* on peppermint altoids, tapping on your phone, pressing your shoe heel into the soft skin of your thigh, feeling ugly but more tired than ugly under that harsh aisle seat light. Home soon, and not home soon enough.

— The End —