sprite diet

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


musings the day before a fitting in a new state, new city i've been trying to call home.

Submitted: August 16, 2018

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Submitted: August 16, 2018

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If I let them the woes of the world weary me.  

The air is crisp. Like the apple I ate for dinner. 

Tomorrow she’ll come and tell me my worth. 

I pray to fake gods in hopes I’ll fake them all out. 

 

Hide the despise 

In spite

With spite

Sipping sugarless sprite.

How far must one go to relearn how to say ‘home’?

The syllable slays and vowels roll through bowels leaving shit on my teeth. 

 

How far must one go to forget the word ‘home,’ make up one of their own

Feel it in the soul of their bones

Does belonging happen here or is not of this earth?

Are we first?

Or just ashes; 

excitable dirt.


© Copyright 2018 Phoebe Jones. All rights reserved.

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