3:AM Magazine

By Will Burke.

.

I am a charter school in May.

chip me a bagel dear, I’m hungry.

and tired of selling children

to the lowest bidder.

.

if we took our bikes

2 the sea side. u’d want

2 drown somemore.

relief is predictable.

.

lecture the cold weather

on thriftiness and restraint.

my popsicle is hard.

.

I hate yr hornicide.

bt can only participate.

w bashful fever + compliance.

.

milk’d me day.

slump’d in2 air.

spent the lettuce

looking @ the pavilion.

the art was real

real horny.

I got no finger

in u. till

sunday.

which wants

ground beef.

+ horse radish.

my colon collapse.

is hilarious.

meat funny.

My worry pad was too hot

2 try anymore. that’s

a complex of comply.

I left yellow. for better

grays. then gave

into stealing. the junk.

we r sober that ruins.

a good line of wishing.

can u berserk. I pushed

my land in2 trust. curs

such a want 2 demon.

a book is a handshake

or the colon’s pride.

or whatever. or whatever.

.

I found yr A staple in my chest.

pepper my cunt. with diamond studs.

lick a lit candle.

.

I rode a big horsey Indian

all over your faces. until we shit.

in a blinking red hole.

then laughed until

we were drunk.

and hungry

for fried eggs.

and skinny toast.

w butter.

one mush value the family.

.

The scrub rote a belt loop over

my coughing cock-sure. blame.

the refrigerator for drying water.

in the sweet potato soup. icelery.

is an isolate. I can only b a capitol.

in corporate exchange. the pussy

room gives up. early in the week.

.

I know what I feel like

blowing balls over dandelions.

+ a squinty sun. shaved tight.

.
hip on my hip. dream of my dream.

skinned like a skinless pale of ice.

.

I’m an effeminate dish

a jew killer. that’s what I sd.

inspite of g-a-g-god # 1!

I know what I hate.

bt I know what I ate.

that could go viral

work it out baby.

.

i gave my gestures

a bunch of hi-fives

and my lines

a grouch of heroic

defeats that smelt

like I’m a defecate.

.

in sandal stains.

ma summer shrunk.

to a black polaroid.

very capital stalls.

then

1 day I discovered my face

bashed in + my teeth loose

+ falling like popcorn from

that popcorn vending machine.

there

my diploma arrived.

my hefty girlfriend fed.

ten-thousand dollars.

+ still live my days

waiting 2 re-die.

.

the wall of amphibians

gray.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Will Burke is from Portland, Maine. His chapbook The World Is Full of Peasants is out from Slash Pine Press.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Saturday, January 19th, 2013.