INK! Volume 3 Issue 2 Spring 2014 | Page 37

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The crowd cheering like a busy playground filled with kids

Cheering to the stumbling of your steps

A drunken beach, throwing up its salted possessions

Deep sea fishing through my thoughts unable to catch a conclusion

I feel the base of your heart vibrating in my lap

The roar of our fights

Black engine smoke out of your ears

High beamed eyes, teeth grinding like gears

Hands waving like wind shield wipers

Gripping your mouth like gravel under tires

And if you ever asked me what it feels like to be slapped

I'd simply tell you,

Imagine being locked inside of a speaker set on high

Watching a historical dvr movie in latin class

Drinking vinegar as if it's water, not being able to gasp for air

Trying to get to school on time

Hand sanitizer in a paper cut

Learning math on a hot summer day in a room with no windows

Drowning in the heat of the numbers