all that and rent is due

olive andrews

art by Djemima Segar

blood is thicker than cherry cola

 

open the window a bit. enough for a little shiver but don’t freeze the radiator. there’s a ray of sun but it’s hiding. i always miss the pink hours, until i’m driving down bayswater, and at every stop sign I turn my head a little bit and catch that deep maroon cloud over the oranges and yellows and vibrantvibrantvibrant pinks screaming FUCK in my corolla and no one hears. so now i’m thinking about the raspberry smirnoff ice i drank at that basement party, when sharing booze was our white flag and i could finally put my head on your shoulder like i dreamt about for five hundred and twenty five thousand four hundred seventy four minutes of the year 2k14. the other one hundred and twenty six is us on this futon. and now raspberry smirnoff ice is red wine, too dark. but i like this maroon cloud resting over the sunset. the pink hours i always miss. the pink sweater i thrifted in high school, stained with blood. valentine’s day. your skin in the cold, your lip when it bleeds, blush. don’t shut the window. fuck the radiator.

 

sunday series

 

christening

 

“we should just enjoy

these times

because

we are content

and nothing hurts”

 

then the jar of honey

smashes

against the side

of the bus

 

 

siri what was that bop?

 

saying fuck like ffffUCK

for effect

 

prying blood clot from pubic hair

inthepublicwashroom

 

thinking abt lying on gf’s kitchen floor

hearing that song for the first time

 

 

 

safe sane and consensual

 

if i’m talking too much

shove steel wool in my mouth.

make my gums bleed.

make it kinky.

i’m not sure, but i think he’s smiling

 

nights like tonight the sky is white instead of

blueblackgrey

 from snow or cloud or dandruff or spun sugar

 

It’s only worth looking out the car window when condensation turns stoplights

into

drops of food colouring in a glass of water

 and you’re listening to carly rae jepsen

 

someone’s draped a big plastic sheet over the space in the wall

now the papers on the bulletin board don’t dance

 

the man in the suit takes twelve confident steps forward

stops

turns around and runs

© Plasma Dolphin. All rights reserved. We work hard on this stuff. Be cool about it.

 

Website designed by Sonja Katanic.

 

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