p33j / peach

prone and crying out to be misunderstood

I clone myself infinite

cedarwood and vetiver reeking, unblending in

run laps around the spectrum

first a wretch, now a retrofitted dome

I, in my new era

don’t have time or space to host these games

settlers play in the wakes

Grieving decorum, swapping shoulder pad suits

for bustiers if I’m frisky, chainmail threads

if I’m vicious, gnashing, pouty

Dashing out in a body fit

for thrash, hardcore cardio drainage

I make sure you see this bloodline

and because I’m vain

You may not ask to capture it

It’s busy bodying, tasks mastered for a change

With wealth, mixed with detritus and inner rot

spreading like ragebait on the homepage

When it all clicks, I’ll abandon it and move on

swap red for peach and bluegill for salmon

Pop said my speech

if left alone to ramble

could upend the caste which keeps froze the bottom

So I unkeyed my mind

and told my ass to follow