is this rage, she thought.

what can I tell you?

the cat’s breath on the
cheek is the same
the sun is hot and
her sweat smells like caffeine

her thoughts race like a fleeing animal
she cannot dam the unreasonable that courses through blueish veins

and the surprise of chemicals
like a birthday party for a child

what is this? they cry.


                                                                                             Lindsay C. Sidders

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