Written by Lauren

I don’t look when I cross a street-

I glare into the cavern of my existence,

perplexed by the silent persistent presence

of oils on my cheek.

I refuse to live in a world without pain,

I am, however, petrified of eternal damnation.

Chomping at the bit for unabashed ecstasy

seems too ostentatious.

She is a novice,

thrown to the crowd at parties, dripping with translucent liquids.

Her stillborn eyes

reflect my general distaste for group functions.

I am engulfed in a heat all too familiar,

the calico corners of a warm coffee mug nestled between my thighs.

My attire offers no protection

against the glittering gazes of lecherous men.

Amber rings form around my skull

until I, too, am entangled in euphoria.

Her sweat droplets shimmer,

intertwined with hairless arms and bicep veins.

Eyeshadow dusts her perfect button nose,

mascara cascades off voluminous eyelashes.

It’s so easy for her.

I wonder if he can feel the sad dull ache in my chest?

I shouldn’t be here-

on this couch wedged between cocaine and whiskey faces.

The same song reverberates in my self-narrative.

I shouldn’t have come-

She’s here, but he won’t stop staring at me.

I am the last portion of Orange Chicken at the buffet.

Slowly crusting onto the silver bowl,

floundering under the heat lamp.

My mahogany spirals are elusive,

my smile cracked like the spine of a book.

Purple lights smear across the glass panes of my eyes.

An escape-

An intimate chill slides across my cheek,

a tacky earth glaze across my feet.

My eyes avert the glimmering STOP sign.

I plunge into the street-