Trap Door from Angel Numbers by Optic Nerve

touch wood
burning through
(the) hole where my chipping goes
sour you,
follow me home
feel your spit betraying what you see

Trap Door,
opens to a jump’d castle
front yard
(behind parked cars,) overlooking soccer fields
lightning up my arms
(touch wood)

sneakers on
rib cages
slurs travel
down hallways
no history makes
conditions of this
en clo sure
posed by your lack

answer:
crushed by the weight of this, pess I mism
i try to get up and
navigate this body scraped

Trap Door
opening up
behind parked cars

find the glimmers of joy and work
that lights the way out this world.

sun lit many horizons, out the gate with this folding
bend it in new ways.

• Punk
• Rock
• bluegrass
• garage
• hardcore
• punk
• Sydney