My Cardboard Balcony

Three Steps Of Identity by Belinda Roddie this is a lovesick poem stuck on a bad kiss poem this is a hit or miss no cinematic twist this is a lovesick poem this is a homesick poem a long "to do" list poem call out the pessimists suck up the cinnamon this is a homesick poem this is a nihilist poem translate the hieroglyphs poem don't call me an anarchist bury me in a crypt this is a nihilist poem write it in Sanskrit running the same shit winters are candlelit summers, I'll never quit no, I'm never sarcastic call me a nihilist this is a half-baked mistake earthquake Bisquick heartsick take your pick poem

Gerald had no idea what was in store for him when he stepped into the condemned space that was once the local laundromat. Snapping his gloves on, he retrieved the clipboard from the passenger's side of his truck and scanned the form attached to it. As he opened the door, it creaked louder than he would have liked - "Almost too appropriate," he thought to himself, reminded of his favorite horror film.