Lizzy Burnam 🐞

you get this sanded-down feeling 
behind your eyes so you blow off 
work you drive downtown and pay 
too much for parking you’re sick 
of circling the block you walk 
limping on your bad foot you feel 
the nails in your bones you see 
a sign for a thrift store that promises 
to be the cure for boredom the cure
for existential anxiety the cure 
for adult identity crises the cure 
for that sanded-down feeling 
behind your eyes you explore 
the store it’s full of taxidermied shit 
a real human skull a box of quartz 
crystals a painting of a woman 
making out with the devil and one 
of those carnival machines that tell 
your fortune for 25¢ the whole thing
just makes you sneeze you leave 
in search of anything else maybe 
a drink maybe a conversation 
with a stranger who’ll convince you
that reincarnation is real it’s hard
to believe in anything with this 
sanded-down feeling behind your 
eyes you try a furniture store it looks
so bougie you turn around at once 
and walk out you try a plant store 
it’s hot and muggy and full of those 
tiny flies you keep on up the next block
you go slow but still you’re sort of 
out of breath you’re forgetting how 
to breathe you remind yourself 
that an unchanged body is no better
than a dead one you briefly catch 
your reflection in the storefront window
you look happier than you feel inside
that sanded-down feeling catches 
a spark like the head of a match
in a flash you remember you’re broke 
but you’re beautiful and the price 
of life is you exist to exist to exist