A red shirt.
Doritos.
Sadness at a party.
Movies.
Mr. Bowtie looks like a douche.
His lady has bangs.
No one should have bangs.
Accidental Xmas music.
I wish I were a cartoon coyote.
2013 was five fucking years ago.
Be nice now.
Because that shit is crazy.
I wonder where September is.
She is probably dancing.
Wearing a pad.
Pretending to love the next guy.
Later I eat a steal peanut butter.
And use a David Bowie record as a plate.
And try to think of a way to end this poem.
So I can move on, meta.