this is what i do when i should be shelving books at the library

i think i remember gold dust tears crumbling like crushed stars from the corners of your eyes. your hands collecting the crumbs and placing them in plastic sandwich bags. it was your only source of income, you said. i nodded because as you cried, i smiled a sharp grin of fine crystal -- razor sharp and gums bleeding. i dripped in jars bright red paint, thick enough that one jar could cover your entire living room. i knew like this we could become american legends. 
¶ 10:38 PM |