More scrutiny on me than a bad fake ID
Bouncer looks from it to me
No resemblance between
Says I’m thirty, only sixteen
Powder, unsweet sugar
Fit on fleek
Spit on freak if she asks me
Kiss on cheek, Gethsemane
Rabbi revealed to his enemy
Shooter is my cousin
Rolling dirty dozen, blood ties so I can trust them
Pitbulls without muzzles, typically causing trouble
Do you mind? She doesn’t
I rack out lines
Dozens of my rustle dust
Like a pixie stick barcode on the formica sinktop
I know your husband
Alchemisland 
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