it’s like you have some kind of pull on me
like gravity
i don’t mind going down on you
it’s not something i tend to do
if you were sick, i’d tend to you
if we were kids
i’d make friends
if only to pretend with you
what’s your name?
we should text
i want it all to end with you

Locked In

i pick at my nails
i stare down at my hands
i’d ask, but i can’t
i’m crashing
like waves made of plastic
a traffic collision
i wish something would happen
sit down and i’ll listen
there’s nothing but static
it’s not that i miss her
i’d take off this mask
i’ve no other plans
i think someone is passing
i’d look up, but i can’t
i pick at my nails
i stare down at my hands


whatever sells:
i’ll starve myself.
like a cave,
carve out myself.
like a line,
i’ll brace myself.
a bar of soap,
lie to myself.
like a snake,
i’ll shed myself.
an open bar,
i’ll help myself.
like a card,
i’ll play myself.
pare like scissors,
part from my self.

Dream Sequence

i set my alarm for seven
as branches claw against my window

with a squeak much like a squeegee
handled by someone who needs me

i should give the tree a dollar
to stop clawing at my window

and i sleep with all my money
hiding underneath my pillow

so i count out seven dollars
to hand out to seven branches

i dwell on the number seven
it reminds me of a charm

but before i can remember
i’m wrenched awake by my alarm


climb a crane.
describe a cut.
were you alone?
i lost so much.
caught in the cold;
cured by the smut.
it makes you sweat
yet not enough.
is who you are
what makes you wet.
what makes you hard?
if that’s the case
we could forget
just who we are.
we could pretend
despite the scars.