Entry 123

The Man picked up dirt,
With hands cupped,
Then spat in it 
— this is what he expected me to purchase?

Fuck that.

I live atop garbage island. 
Gleaming.
Pristine plastic, porcelain,
Plexiglas paradise.

Non-flammable.
Non-perishable.
Not a God damned choking hazard.

Candy Avenue tastes like tar
And it’ll clog ya the same.

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