poem: they told her—Love is violent

and she did not believe it. because the Unrequited is soft, it is gazing out glazed-over windows and waiting for fictions in the mist and the raining grey. but when the boy—is horribly real, the Emotion comes wild, exploding imploding burning loose—the system torn up, the inheritance bolshevik-ed with three smiles. she makes the Raw,… Continue reading poem: they told her—Love is violent

poem: i saw the texts in your phone

darling, have you heard of the invisible men? they are all around us, dancing. they are the pricks in your cough when you kiss me, when you tug down my short chemise and kiss my thighs. they are the children we can't have, the dreams scheduled and forgotten, the sense of otherness I always feel… Continue reading poem: i saw the texts in your phone

poem: last November was seeped through with color

sitting, now, on the other side and looking back through the blue-green sheen of November in Love, I am unhinged and wet, the wine running deep rosé over my virgin hands, my soiled head.   he would come to me out of the rain, out of the dark, shaking mythos from the curling damp parts,… Continue reading poem: last November was seeped through with color

poem: delusional man

I am not so good at this, she says: the creaking of her hands being wheeled behind her head, and the gears pulling a smile taunt over her too-life-like face, the blue eyes put flat above wavy almond hair, the color of it perfect inspiration, a lucky miracle that comes from the painter staring outside… Continue reading poem: delusional man