this is the poem I wrote for class today. (the title of this poem is a phone number, and for obvious reasons I’m not gonna post it online)(also, still unsure how to stylize poems on here, any help?)
Milwaukee Avenue is darkest when you’re by yourself.
When the Owl is out,
and men throw glass and blades at you
as you retreat, walking east to California.
Four days of missed plans, now this.
This is what it boils down to.
Four eyes walking home, alone.
I awoke to a question screaming in my ear.
“Who let the dogs out?”
I look and see an unfamiliar number appear.
And then to the window,
What is she doing here?
The door left unanswered,
as are the previous questions.
It’s too early for a cigarette,
so I crawl back under baby blue bedding
and stare at the back of my eyelids.
Stove gas inhaled through my mouth,
and out my nose.