AUGUST ❋ Shy Watson

trying hard not to
like Tame Impala in my underwear
I am two hits shy of becoming a bug

the unconscious
guy in the grass
is being rained on
by a bag of wine

it sprays
out the tall man’s crotch flap

whispering into the megaphone
because you are too drunk to remember me
i repeat the same sentences
over and over

forcing a stamp
into the gray matter
of an otherwise blurry brain