amateur hour
sleeping in was not an option, but i dreamt some dreams you may be entertaining[,] bitterness only lasted for as long as a glottal stop; i thought i knew what i was doing when i was a kid. i didn’t know that it was possible to blush through my skin tone, might be because my teachers taught me nothing about my self. still i had no clue how much i was missing you and yet i knew what i wanted and still want. how could you pretend to not see it? in daydreams i said and still say: of course i’d be open and of course i’d want to see you stuffed ——— guiding [w]e, tactile melodies are imagined like a gutter in old havana[;] like a thick, greasy pizza slice that must be chewed twelve times, twice.