he came from his side of the bed: whiteshirt, white sweater, whitetrousers with the cresses pressed in, as if he was a gothic romantic caricature of the fine, last old age, aging likeyoung wine, the dorian grey bright and apparent andhelium-esque on his face, he took my thinwhite hands inside his own,unworked, thin hands --… Continue reading poem: oxbridge
poem: i tell God He has a lot of explaining to do
pain is whati am used to; the baby came outin pieces. do you cryyourself to sleep, at night?sometimes.
poem: reader, she is lonely again
I sometimes have a queerfeeling in regardsto you; so said, janeeyre, that precocious bitch. probably drinking spiked water,in a club in california, and not thinkingabout /him/, or so she tellsthe intrusive thoughts. the gleamof the orange purple dancingpeople is twistedinto her throat; watch the sparrowwrap herself into lightening-rodsand snap, sparkledisintegrate.
poem: us and them
they met on a trainand then did not meetfor manyyears.the girl said, stories must be,by definition, sad and therefore i do notwant a storywith you. the boy said, we have nochoice we are humanand thus doomedto suffer.
silent ownership in the night, youonly exist like a characterinside my mind-fuckingmental state. i want to make it keep it pretty, i cannot / but whenit happens, it issoft little waves rushingup on me. the daylight is veryawkward, we are realpeople. the refrigerator is silent,mad old greek godor silicone statue, thinkingi took your motherfaster, manage… Continue reading poem: instagram
poem: save ur tears
set the scene: girl, realizingquickly inside the lights that the boywill not tellher everything. how can i say —without mocking — that youthat you exist within smallsnake lines; train stationin august alsoseptember; the lines lookdifferent inside rain lightsstation lights, people with ezra pound faces, petals and bulbouseyes. the girl realizingthe boy is leaving, he is… Continue reading poem: save ur tears
poem: that man
winter is invariably winter; people are different people when they wake up in the morning. he stayed lateinside the night 90s computer eyes, 90s animeboy. blink twice it's probablythe matrix; summer is invariablysummer he will walk awaythrough the heat, but nowhe stayed late on the couch lateinto the morning. white snow morningspuffy thin air, animeeyes.… Continue reading poem: that man
poem: poem for a book i haven’t read
clones in britian, blue blockhouses and history book names. they saidtry enough and you'll be good enough, you'll be one of us. the tory boydown the street, cat food hair, catchesbutterfly corpses, also kissessoftly plastic girls, modern science meltingbetween your fingers. underneath fragilegirl, comes back blondebland. he stands on the porch and watches her slim… Continue reading poem: poem for a book i haven’t read
writing: the cousin
The lights dimmed in the room and she left quickly. She did not want to see his face when he came in. It had been six months and she did not want to look at him. The picture was in her head, aggressive in clarity. She did not have to look. She left and stood… Continue reading writing: the cousin
poem: nice people are always liars
the boy in the undead years cuthis age in half by the ageof girls he findsscalps, vulnerability is a bitch, like sex all over your hands. the toyko girl is suicidalfor fun, she plays moshi-moshi handgames handgrenades paparazzi do you wanna befamous somebodyloved? the boys find herat bridges, drippingher wet cuniversal righteous nothing, we arefragile… Continue reading poem: nice people are always liars