Day Three Hundred and Twenty-Eight.


Izzy circle


If I drew you, I would draw a mountaintop,
breathtaking and treacherous and fucking hard to reach


Sarah circle


everything seems a little less real than tomorrow, she thinks
as she irons her hair along with her shirt
flat out on the scorch-marked ironing board

there is nothing to prove that there was ever a yesterday, she thinks
scoring her sandwiches with the flat of the knife
but not quite cutting them all the way through

I am a hologram lost in a synapse, she thinks
and paints lipstick on her eyelids
and mascara on her teeth



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