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She smiles The birds matching The arch Of her lips With their wings And I’m lifted If only for a little while Until the birds squawk Louder than her words Which say something something About something something else, Though I’m sure the sentences Vibrate into the sky Tickling the webbed feet above Like feathers on … Continue reading
Everyone dies in the summer When the sun doesn’t set. It just sits in the sky Like a scar that won’t heal But instead only gushes Hot, infected, Blood Over everything. It is murder in broad daylight.
There is a poem about unhappiness That is written so beautifully That the author who penned it Knew she would never scrawl Something like it ever again And so she got up, Put a gun into her mouth, And clicked Only to find that she had Picked up a water gun instead That shot a … Continue reading
I’m in a bathroom and so is she, a hair found in the inside of my pee-pee. Did she put it there or did I, when we were kissing, foundling, a sexual goodybye? I pull it out, the buoy in a rumbling sea Piss screams, and we bleeds from me.
The candle starts tall Before sputtering To burn bright, Bright enough to make It small And smaller yet Until it is only a wick And a weak flame That could light The whole house on fire.
Chip a tooth from the Universe, Or maybe just kiss a bit too hard And you’ll find that any love story you tell Can be told with the same taste And smell And eventual bite-marks that never quite heal Because for a while, a shorter while than you knew they knew you knew, Another person … Continue reading
I’m in a library. There are many books around me. Some are on the floor. Others are littered over tables. There’s an organization to the stacks, but I don’t know it. They aren’t arranged by height or colour or any particular pattern I can recognize. I open one book and it’s in a language I … Continue reading
Hi. This is you. Here you are. Here I am too, but you do not know that yet. You’ll only find it out after a lifetime of remembering and forgetting alike. It’ll be a lot. It’ll be a little. It’ll be all you have for it is all you are: this stream of consciousness at … Continue reading
Waiter. There is a knot of spaghetti in my pasta. You’re exactly right, there indeed is. Can I have it sent back? For? The knot. I don’t see a problem with it, sir. Pasta is not supposed to be knotted. While that it is true, it is only one noodle of many. And besides, it’s … Continue reading
There is a trumpet that I used to know how to play. I would get up and pick it up and it would sing notes that were up too. I was younger then, most certainly younger than I was now, Or at least young enough to fiddle around until I tired or it did … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 