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It creeps inside Hunter's bathroom, frightening us under the bed while Frankie and Lola slept peacefully on. Miles stared through phantoms burping rotten pink cupcakes baked crispy inside his locker reeking with fermented vitamins. Winston swept firecrackers from eager Becky and Jack towards Imogen while smoke filled the backs of her fantastic posters. Posers sucked life and Eli chewed Fiona's tights and black shoes. Swarms crept like your kissable twin with the red ants marching into my pants and jacket worn over turquoise lips surgically flattened onto pancakes smothered with Sprite sauce. There wasn't enough magic invested in that romance while my dog howled and cats meowed dramatically inside of Emma's wallpaper terrifying Manny out under the bridge screaming on about nice boys and cheerleaders slipping on slices of cheese. Books by the notorious moderators spilled with tea and woke city vibes by someone streaking
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