around your studio apartment with no shirt. You slap my ass and smile like an undefeated warrior. Your blue chonies a bow in my hair as you take photos to delete from your iphone later.
I am all like, “watch this shit,” and I twerk. You are like, “I’m so rock hard right now,” like a wwe pay per view. We are all like, “this is love doggie.”
I visualize you at google fiber internet speeds. Faster than beer, faster than tumblr, faster than beer, faster than the smell of the empty church near my house, faster than selfies taken in a graveyard, faster than two gold chains. Our intimacy reflects how the universe is created only interpersonal, and you are all like, “that is hella cheesy.”
I am all like, “yeah but that doesn’t mean it ain’t true.”
I sport your red lace chonies with no shirt on around your two-bedroom apartment when your roommate is gone. You, a rotating star projector, read the newspaper aloud from the kitchen. I practice fake fighting moves like elbow punch to the face, boom german suplex.
You are all like, “that will never work.”
Vegan supplements separate as we bloom at opposite ends of the table, feeling like the moment when you get a job and still have 200 dollars on your ebt card.
Julian Smuggles is a Mexican-American writer currently living in Portland, Oregon. His work explores the struggles of being brown in a white supremacist society. Through the use of popular internet slang and aesthetics, he tries to dismantle the struggles of modernity.