Saboteur / Scapegoat
There is something terrifying
in the taste
of a true word
blooming
on the tip of my tongue:
maybe it’s not you
that compels me
to risk it all,
and for
nothing.
It’s always been this way,
ever since way back then,
remember, when
I cut you out of paper?
Rohypnol
felt less like a drive
to your weed guy,
more like launching
galaxies my forehead pressed against
the window
pupils dilated: two black
holes
mouth slack I smiled
like a moron
again, but no;
I was just
stoned,
even the stars
strung out long
cosmic streamers
at my party, cry
if I want
to, cry if I want
Samantha Lamph/Len is a writer and cat masseuse in Los Angeles. You can read more of her work in OCCULUM, Queen Mob's Tea House, Connotation Press, and Inlandia. She is also the creator & co-curator of Memoir Mixtapes. You can follow her on Instagram & Twitter @quandoparamucho.