A spin of modern panic sets me
in2 the day’s straitjacket Sad as
stone Gilded squalor Str8 stoic
as my A-line FISA who Cannot
confirm my need 2 dent up a few
neural certainties BUT IF IT DID
it wouldn’t tell me Only talks 2
top me Shouting Wellbutrin praise
Ativan praise Amphetamine Salt
daze 4 the generally all quieting
yt science of my [now] cool calm
collected common adder It like my
hiss hoarse Keep me feigning furious
4 publicly legible fear What
kinna word is dongle? Y do yu need
my ID? Where hav they hidden
the wires? But i’m
fucctional 4ward even if movement
is a matter of concession Hot dog
water Panko facts We are legally
obligated to offer yu 2 all available
generic medicines I feel most
mother-in-law-ly wen wishing in rain
bows in with my cool swish & apple
bottom 2 beat back Bsides of adam4adam
frot & hide-a-key coke copping in
[this literally happened]
a crab shack bathroom A McDonald’s
bathroom But i don’t do crab coke or
McDonald’s anymore Or cataracts
of sorrow or the way
sumtimes with no warning wind would pull
from me
my ten thousand hundred pipings
blinkless lite 2 let go
stop not even if i do luv
a lil’ death in me
Kamden Hilliard is an MFA candidate at The Iowa Writers' Workshop. Catch their work in The Black Warrior Review, American Chordata, The Nashville Review, and other sunspots.