Kayla Townshend Poems

There is a clockwork inside of you,
and the switches are switched.
Intead of ticking you screech.
The pulse is a choatic mess of ups and
...

You have everything that hasnt fractured me already.
You have the pieces that I can spare, those misshapen, deformed things
that I cast aside and you picked up, unafraid, even as I screamed at you not to,
even as I begged you not too.
...

You are driving down the freeway
picture perfect, almost,
if not for the little things
the burning cigarette in the
...