THERE ARE GREAT BIG FLIES IN THE SKY, THEY WON’T STOP TELLING ME TO BURN Dominique Shatkin
Alarm starts playing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton at 11am. Keep hitting snooze until your phone gives up. Siri thinks you’re a sluggish little bitch. Wake up to Jess calling at 4:30. Reach over and pop an Adderall before you press answer. She asks how you are. You say you can’t feel anything. You’re exhausted. You tell her about the panic attack you had last night. She asks you to recall what was going through your head at the time. You don’t remember. Use your last brain cells, Dominique. Think. There are bugs everywhere. Hundreds of them. Where the fuck did they come from? You want them gone, but you have to turn around as your mom starts swatting them. Stop caring so much. Do they even have a conscience? Do they see visions? Mom leaves. Pick up the vacuum. Vacuum dies. The bugs are still alive. You are somewhere in between. You can’t breathe. Your eyes start shaking. Your body is trying to kill itself. Undress. Sit on the floor naked. Smoke a cigarette. Breathe. There you go. Grab your favorite purple sweatpants and the baggy t-shirt with “Hardrock Amsterdam” on it. Where’s the shirt? No seriously. Where the fuck is it? It always sits in the same spot, unwashed for weeks reeking of BO. Anthology 7
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