from a stool, school

we gathered around the counter on tuesday mornings waiting for a final resolution to all the promises you broke spending money and listening to me as i poke another under the table where legs were rubbed and lies were held in foam topped mugs a shot of you left over from dinner with scraps on the floor a dance with candor in a house where eric once lived, a series of stacked bricks where outside hunches a pig named oliver blowing with the wolves – he just wants a little more.

you disagree.

I do too.

black spots dance before my eyelids heavy and i scream for my keys

unlock this gate guarding my final fate

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