Apocalyptic poems, posted every m-f.

carly

in the future
you will be a motorcycle rider,
you will have seven notches carved
into your belt
three into your left handlebar
and a scar across your face –

you will have a flurry of ghosts,
they will follow you around
suckling at you like leeches,
you will have a tumor
in your brain

sad and singular carly,
you will be an abacus,
keeping track of everything
but the days

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