Every time my boy lights up a smoke
the whole town weeps
Pink colored confetti stuck
inside his ears
as he often strides across apartment 31
climbs on the window
his black shoes shining bright
the after party still in full force
He stands there often
the wind prowling
his stomach and ribs caving in
Tilting forward in a manner ever so slight
magnum opus of his few-second lifetime;
“poor men can’t be poisoned.”

Karmen O. says, “Most of my stuff is in greek and unpublished as for now. I am soon to be 19 years old, English is not my mother tongue as i was born and raised in greece.”