Twisted
after i visit my father
my shoes squeak lolita lolita lolita; walking across town makes the town into manga lines, the people into hot pencil shapes and his thumbprints keep close watch on my ankles, on the young parts of my thighs.
my father tells me: do not
think so much.
at night, we pause:
there is space in our mouths
for the world.
i think:
i am not a nihilist,
I am nothing.
Elizabeth Pierson is a university student studying English Literature and Modern Foreign Languages. She has been writing poetry and short fiction since high school and has been published in her university's literary journal. You can find more of her writing here: thelastpavilion.com.