by Sydney J., 15
i wish i had puréed my memories
to pour over those shark-shaped-silicon-molded-ice-cubed-fifth-grade breaths
and sip slowly on days like this,
days when the world screams itself hoarse
telling you to grow up
and decide what you want to do
for the rest of your every-day-the-same lives
Downingtown, Pennsylvania
Bridge Ink 