poem: I do not want to mistake another boy’s kindness for love

Welcome To The Bottom of the Erotic. The Mood Swings Pure Chemical Hormone. I lose skin and I am watching the curtains make double-colors: the red too fresh, too fake the black like insomnia, the artist's friend, climbing in for psychotic kicks. I make my reflection in crescent nails I find that (once again) I…

poem: summer fruit in the city

so is this what it takes? we are not meant to speak of the inner life, the girls falling like apples; it should all be chaste: small stories of people kissing in stations and camps, her glory fluttering under your hands, her becoming all raw and red. you thought you were a god because she…

poem: all this is [now] redundant

everytime i hear footsteps i think it is [him] but i look up and of course i am wrong he does not belong to me [anymore] so why am i waiting for him to come back to me. there is too much grey in tiled hearts i am just bored i am a female anomaly…