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i feel like im always looking at the clock at 3:38 in the morning and waiting for the other shoe to drop. waiting for the numbers to turn and planes to depart. headlights run the road, gleaming asphalt, the reflecting street signs pointing down the line in the direction of our next major accident. the flares will ignite and the arms will wave, voices will call. it will be like yelling through water, secret messages to decipher when you surface. did we ever get them right? do i ever get anything right. youre impossible written on a napkin that black ballpoint shredded through with intensity. close your eyes its a surprise. and i sit while pulling the string on a confetti popper and colored paper catches on my cheek, tear drops soaking through rainbow snow. happy birthday. youre alone again. close your eyes, its a surprise.


About deadendemily

Emily lives in Austin, TX. She has a minor in chaos and a major in spray paint. She likes Vincent Price and ABBA. She enjoys being covered in fake blood and writing horror stories. Most of the time she just hopes that her cat is not plotting to murder her, her cat being a minion of Satan and all. They would never suspect the cat.

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