Turning heads has become
\nmy new hobby since it’s as
\neasy as holding your hand.
\nIn the mid-morning down<\/p>\n
pour of Nissans pathetic
\nfallacy seems like it sounds.
\nCan you feel it? Your fringe
\ngaping in the 60mph breath \u2013 <\/p>\n
like those hatchbacks have
\nlungs \u2013 and that taste in my
\nmouth that toothpaste couldn’t
\nbrush off, those five (to seven)<\/p>\n
calories of you swimming in
\nmy empty stomach. I feel so
\nwhole. I can tell you that. I
\ncan<\/p>\n
look at
\n\tthem through their
\nwound up windows, their
\nspiritual red bull damp on their
\nteeth. I can see them in their <\/p>\n
safety almost. Having snatched
\ntheir pick-me-up shot of comfort.
\nCan you feel it? My hand jammed
\ntight to your thigh. <\/p>\n
Say This Ten Times Fast<\/strong><\/p>\n You can’t help but get Pac-Man before it puffs out anymore clouds, they’re but hear it. Your noisy Long Distance<\/strong><\/p>\n He found love (at last) ABOUT THE AUTHOR<\/strong> He found love (at last) By Adam Napier.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":155,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-51307","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51307","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/155"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=51307"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51307\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=51307"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=51307"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=51307"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nmouth
\nwhen
\nwe
\nkiss like this: open in your kitchen.
\nThe kettle’s talking to us; its speech
\nbubbles
\nburning
\nlike
\nthat cig in the ashtray. Pick it up<\/p>\n
\ncondensing around our conversation. These
\ndomestic blimps product-placing in my ears while
\nI’m trying to make a milky constellation in your tea.
\n(Should I read the leaves?)
\nI can’t help<\/p>\n
\nprophecy cannibalising the silence
\nfat with its etcs. <\/p>\n
\nat the end
\nof the hyperlink. It was
\nin her pixel
\npale complexion. It was
\nin the quiet
\nclicking mouse. It was
\nin his glass
\nwrist wasn’t it?<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/09\/297367_4054571597702_1913084436_n-300x225.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
\nAdam Napier<\/strong> is a college student in Newcastle, England, who has been writing poetry and prose since his teenage years. He’s previously appeared (or is forthcoming in) The Delinquent, The Cadaverine, The Crocodile Journal<\/em> and Forward Poetry’s Inspired<\/em> anthology. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.3ammagazine.com\/3am\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/09\/297367_4054571597702_1913084436_n1-420x179.jpg\")
<\/p>\n
\nat the end
\nof the hyperlink. It was
\nin her pixel
\npale complexion. It was
\nin the quiet
\nclicking mouse. It was
\nin his glass
\nwrist wasn’t it?<\/p>\n