the icy simmer of shopping carts rattles up my window, climbs over the balcony and lets itself in. the windows and doors are wide open to let out the smoke from my snack-salty roast in the oven. Alarm’s been off once so I’ve put in a fan to displace the smoke back to the kitchen. My eyes are affected but only a bit so I blink past the burgeoning tears.
isn’t this such a cliché way to end it all
just a quick jump from a bridge.
the paper’s ending anyway and I should go and check because there hasn’t been a sound at all just yet. sometimes they excite in there and pop and scream and hiss
the jaw has to work when you eat em.