Two Hundred and Sixty-One.


Izzy circle


iPhone predictive text:
cumbersome, and a few weeks of the year before the end of this


Sarah circle


That gut-punch hunger comes crawling back
slopping through the sick sad streets again
pawing at my knee, big lost cat eyes and a bad dog tail
Go ‘way, I hiss, kicking it off subtle-like
so the punters can’t see
rictus grinning for the security cameras
impassive as a street sign
It spins a pathetic circle and nestles back into my pant leg
Meows so pathetically
Says it’s so sorry
It never meant for
Not on purpose
Oh please, it says
Oh puh-leeeeeease
The neighbours are looking now
Weird girl kicking her knees out
Scabies, I hear one whisper
You can see it from a mile off
Shut the fuck up, I say
Shut up now
Jesus, yes, you can stay again
Don’t fuck it up this time
Goddamn it



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