I’m thinking about how every time I do it
it never feels like anything
how A1 sauce is good with fries
and the nothingness of a body

I’m inside now and i’m sitting and clicking
And reading and forgetting
A memory is everything, a pressure cooker rings
two-thousand warnings and my torso is a radio

when i was 7, I had a pet iguana that my mom bought on a beach in mazatlán. he was $10 and came in an empty ice mountain bottle. for months i took care of him and fed it like pellets or something I don’t really remember. We were back in Durango and one time my little cousin pushed down on the iguana’s head and it made me so mad.

The next week, We also lost him for like 4 hours but found him under a pillow with half his tail missing. Oh yeah iguana tails don’t grow back at least not this one.

On the way back to Chicago, my mom hid the iguana in a box within her purse. Border patrol didn’t find it because they’re idiots and bitches. Summer was over and I was in second grade. one time I said “ass” and I got in trouble because Jocelyn snitched and said, “Adrian said ass” to my teacher. I was so mad.

a few weeks later I came home and my mom was in front of my iguana’s tank, which was just a fish tank except it didn’t have water. I knew and I cried. I opened the fridge and swigged hazelnut coffee creamer.

a body is nothing and I have it
No goal too narrow
a billow of smoke so fitted u couldn’t see
every want a penny in the pond

adrian is a detroit via chicago poet who’s absolutely addicted to being an idiot. during the day he works in communications for [REDACTED] where he sits at his desk and thinks about socialism. at night his gf gets annoyed because he’s getting owned by teens on fortnite instead of cleaning the litter box.