Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

Rum Fingers

my arms and nerves feel like rubber bands
my eyes focusing, stretching in and out
rum ties strings to my hands and knuckles
using my joints to make colorful points
with leaking water color paint across the floor
of the paper propped up on my table
it chuckles, not able to hide a grin
behind the melting red and violet paints
turning to bruised colors in jars and tins
a cold wind peeks under the door, trying to get in

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