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Nunca Pasa Nada by Adrian Rojas The Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Seventeen
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adrian rojas is some guy who is an idiot, but, above all, smells good. he went to school for journalism; however, he is now a sellout and does communications and PR as a profession. his poetry has been featured on Maudlin House and referenced in Vagabond City Lit. you can find him on twitter dot com (@officialbrohoss) making fun of centrists and asking for money. cover: megan kelley (IG: @meganmarie_)
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where to i am your boy and you are faster than i thought i pointed and said “up there” to nothing the uber notification came out of your back-left pocket i didn’t tell you, but the other day i Thought About It and felt dumb as hell it’s wild to think that i have never even ever thought of anything before
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3326 n western ave, chicago, IL 60618 i see you and there is literally no such thing every morning the bus honks for a kid to come outside on the ground, a coupon for free fries at wing stop, saw it expired and thought, “well, that’s good i think” i dont like the way that i look i am ok with the way that i talk
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facts about cars part I at a red light, i laughed at the time you said that i was going to look like my dad when i got older then the light turned green and i got really nervous about looking like my dad when i get older
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the dogs are out sometimes i haunt myself and i’m mad that i never got the chance to be a dog for you at the foot of the bed shimmering sequin under christmas lights me in the corner barking up another squall
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salsa verde everywhere feels thick and i have never surrendered to anyone before in the time it took to build it 180 days passed 2,430 baseball games were played and a baker’s dozen of poached eggs were eaten while shopping, i remembered that one time i wore the same outfit two days in a row and im happy that you didn’t mention it inside Target there is a home
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see you in hell, candy boys i have no other words than the 15x ive said it in my head full on plums dangly and uneasy inside a black car on the first warm weekend of spring it rattles the windshield so squeezed and excited a thing of poprocks inside a can of coke
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on my down comforter, which is too warm for summer the other day, i felt a little taller a bottle rocket’s skeleton falls onto the roof a flash there, two flashes here there is a time of day that is softer and i like what you have done to this house
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ok but how does it break down,,,? now, inside are shapes and it breaks down like this: triangles are loud, sharp arched are circles pointing at nowhere there are tangled guides all handcuffed and dumb all looking at rectangles and thinking they’re squares all holding hands with pillars not expecting leftover paint our: aimed and tried and formless and curved
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lmao oh no i don’t remember anything and i no longer know how to act one day they will ask “where is it that you learned” and i’ll reply: a sunday inside their room a tuesday inside my head a saturday getting into the car and leaving the keys upstairs we are nothing but thieves fingerprints on eyelids mice in the kitchen eating crumbs before prayer
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the tool is not the goal in our hands there is a tool and in our hands there is a goal millions and millions and millions and millions, path by path, right by right a revolution in the softest glow literally ! don’t text me or write me or like even talk to me if you dont want health justice for all, u lil bitch
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facts about cars part II you made me question how many bell peppers i should be buying at jewel (i picked out 2) i thought i heard the radio tell me Things Are Only There When They Are i thought abt how distance can be measured in minutes
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nunca pasa nada nothing has ever been said or done yesterday was the first day three months spent in the sun and my mouth is full of glitter nunca pasa nada in este vida
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yvan eht nioj, yaj on your sheets i said i didn’t know if it was something i wanted to do inside my head, bees crashed into each other left your apartment with the hat i borrowed and hid it in my coat pocket in the car i hear buzzing again
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post-club lol omg so for a couple of days after, i kept thinking abt that stupid thing i did with my hands its wake brimmed me with the feeling of a stuck raccoon, one direction’s “no control” pinned to its thoughts like a corkboard i thought about how i kicked around inside the lyft home how i hated that it was so hot outside how i hated that there was no food at the apartment how reminders can be so good
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eating fruit i catch myself inheriting things that u say in everyday conversations, and thinking abt it makes it feel like im tasting dried apricots for the first time sometimes i catch you doing the same thing you ever think abt why the dried fruit game isnt bigger than it already is? i hope you do think abt it, dummy
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laurelhurst i held my own hand and gripped until my thumb left and an imprint on the other on friday, i nose-bled at brunch and it didn’t stop ’til the check came there was a walk and i counted each step in tallies dashing slanted lines after every 4 sometimes i want to be let in knowing that i should be carried out
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a tree fell on a kia sportage and it was sick heard the thunder and ran toward the window across the street a tree fell, and i’m pretty sure i said “tight” the few months after i was so nervous i crawled from couch to bed bed to shower walking through the grocery store bc i had nothing else to say when it swallowed me and it swallowed you, we dribbled back onto the sidewalk picking up dirt and bugs along the way
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i am googling stars i left my apartment thinking abt paper in this moment i am googling “stars” but also did you know that it’s impossible to know how Many there are ??? it has something to do with Math i think i am googling “stars” again
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siempre pasa algo there is not enough time and words are too small a clock moves and it feels like it sometimes there are 65 minutes of this and it never stops all around me: canela, durazno y azucar
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sticky i am full of little things all bracing and skittish, clinging onto other little things i am needing to tell u that afternoons are just slightly brighter mornings