buckner, mo

there is nothing for miles beyond this wretched ghost town. your eyes lock onto a crumbling shitty black billboard. your pretty face is going to hell. how horrified they’d be to know we are all already there.

you live by a rusted train station where no one has ever bought a ticket from. yet, the trains never stop running screeching through this hellscape town.

there is a 7-11 on top of a hill. and when the sun goes down, the damned cashier’s eyes glow a bit redder. you are careful not to stand under the lights that flicker in the back of the store.

in the cracking panelled halls of your best friend’s house

there is an apparition with sunken eyes. it wears the skin of your best friend but you will not let it fool you. that is not your friend anymore.

every time you get into your car there is a quarter tank of gas. just enough to get you to the other side of town. and no matter how many times you stop under the hellish red gas station lights, you will only ever have a quarter tank of gas.

there are mirrors, covered with white bedsheets across the length of your house. the apparition tells you to rip the sheets away and look. but you cannot stomach it. you do not want to know what has become of you.