cigarette smoke.

DIRTY LACES

at 10:25-am the screen lit up red with white squares all non-symmetrical with blocky black words.

your shoes are scrunched up in the corner outside in the shoe rack where you threw them unceremoniously after pizza at 10:57-pm two-three days ago / or was it yesterday? you've never claimed a good memory, nor disposition. you're a bitter / bleeding / biting thing, skin so pale it'll slink off. you look like your mother and your father and your little sister. you got mistaken as her a lot ― she's more outgoing than you've ever been. she's everything you aspire to be / she's everything you never want you become.

you hate her. you hate yourself too, though so this you think it might be okay. you're afraid to think it's something else (saying envy out loud makes you angry, you get angry a lot).

it's 11:30-am (heaven strike us with lightning so we might shine).