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urban legends

urban legends

cooter doodle
March 03, 2024

Check on your friends who are having a hard time understanding.

I’ve been afraid to ask this for a while now… but at the risk of looking like a fucking loser how are shower beers not called gross warm-to-almost-hot beers?
— cooterdoodle (@cooterdoodle)
12:43 AM • Mar 1, 2024

Not me though. I’m here for a good time not a hard time.

Let’s get into it:

[want]

I spend my nights,
half my life,
talking to ghosts.

Can’t bring myself to speak to them out by the stones.

I’m alright, enough,
til the want creeps in,
for flesh and bone.

I’m alright,
enough.
I talk to ghosts.

[seven¹]

I remember hearing a rumor in childhood that our bodies replace themselves every seven years.

As one door closes, another door opens. But instead of wooden archways, it’s cell membranes - or something like it - I don’t speak in science.
Cells are born and cells are dying.

“The new ones,” they whispered, “without warning, come in and take their place.”

I remember hearing a rumor that everything changes
and laughed right in it’s face.

But I’m sitting in a stranger’s house, calling it my home,
and everything’s been replaced.
I used a shot glass
for my daughter’s wild flowers
as a vase.
My father is no longer here,
but I hold his features on my face.

The girl I was has died, and without warning, I took her place.

^{1. not that fucking scary movie with the box.}