poem: reader, she is lonely again

I sometimes have a queer
feeling in regards
to you; so said, jane
eyre, that precocious bitch. probably
drinking spiked water,
in a club in
california, and not thinking
about /him/, or so
she tells
the intrusive thoughts. the gleam
of the orange purple dancing
people is twisted
into her throat; watch the sparrow
wrap herself into lightening-rods
and snap, sparkle
disintegrate.

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