The Fake Ad, the Doctored Images

Sitting on a pink lawn chair, sitting on a dusty air conditioner.
Throughout the day, the morning moves slowly. Visit the motel.

Sunlight pours in, searching for something to fill the dark.
I keep myself busy with this: some sleep, a box of Starbucks.

In a more subdued mood, pacing around a dark motel room,
I became that girl, juggling enough, writing a horror movie,

a duet with Beyoncé. I know I’m not doing shit. No doubt.
Proof of life, a lesson in human behavior. I’m not ashamed.

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s