BACK TO HOME
WRITING
”Lets drink wine before noon and do donuts at the marina”
I feel like sunshine
doesn’t usually sting like this
and often the snow is
softer
Wisps on the wind
roll over
and turn to face away
leaving only upon the hour of despair
Everything, and the sludge in the harbor
reclaimed by the grey
But how many blues do you see?
Crab shells and needles roll ashore
in a hollow crunch
with a bitterness,
seeping like the whispers
sickly in your head,
theres nowhere left to go
I feel like sunshine
doesn’t usually sting like this
and often the snow is
softer
Wisps on the wind
roll over
and turn to face away
leaving only upon the hour of despair
Everything, and the sludge in the harbor
reclaimed by the grey
But how many blues do you see?
Crab shells and needles roll ashore
in a hollow crunch
with a bitterness,
seeping like the whispers
sickly in your head,
theres nowhere left to go
”Red Revels in the Wet”
Those rodents await me at home
Did They want to?
Should I even call it that?
Could they hear the scuttling
Of roaches being born in plastic lined with marinara?
The wretched wet
That microbial stench
Suffocating, that it is
Closing up
Were the plants screaming - did They even care to hear?
Did they ever recant in their
Deprivation on the littered window sill?
How can they sit in the bubble, consumed
By odors consummated by illness?
With the overhead lights never
Bright enough to
Really read the page,
Sprinkled with tears and dreams still to be
Proliferated.
Incessant pulsing beneath my corneas and that hollow
Sting in my sinuses
There is much life here, but it is other
Than us.
Yesterday, when I woke
Black oozed from my nose
And I can feel my trachea getting sticky
The floor by the TV thumped
Two days ago
A vehement call from the carpet’s corner to my fancy
Of fury
And today, lingering
About in places I don’t really belong
Scared to let my ears act in subjectivity
They seemed complacent somehow and
Upon arriving home I
Ignored the frayed edge, but the tendrils, a deep cherry red
Had begun to swell and swallow, floorboards splintering as
Red envelops
The exit I made most swiftly
My ears only partially closed to the glistening squelch
And on my way out, the footsteps they
Follow, searching for a way in to discover,
To burrow betwixt my ribs
And leech the ferocious beating of my hideous heart!
Did They want to?
Should I even call it that?
Could they hear the scuttling
Of roaches being born in plastic lined with marinara?
The wretched wet
That microbial stench
Suffocating, that it is
Closing up
Were the plants screaming - did They even care to hear?
Did they ever recant in their
Deprivation on the littered window sill?
How can they sit in the bubble, consumed
By odors consummated by illness?
With the overhead lights never
Bright enough to
Really read the page,
Sprinkled with tears and dreams still to be
Proliferated.
Incessant pulsing beneath my corneas and that hollow
Sting in my sinuses
There is much life here, but it is other
Than us.
Yesterday, when I woke
Black oozed from my nose
And I can feel my trachea getting sticky
The floor by the TV thumped
Two days ago
A vehement call from the carpet’s corner to my fancy
Of fury
And today, lingering
About in places I don’t really belong
Scared to let my ears act in subjectivity
They seemed complacent somehow and
Upon arriving home I
Ignored the frayed edge, but the tendrils, a deep cherry red
Had begun to swell and swallow, floorboards splintering as
Red envelops
The exit I made most swiftly
My ears only partially closed to the glistening squelch
And on my way out, the footsteps they
Follow, searching for a way in to discover,
To burrow betwixt my ribs
And leech the ferocious beating of my hideous heart!
”Watch me”
Come undressed
By cameras ogling
From the gates and the archways
A slave to the skin tied
To your face
Digital voyeurism bewitches, suspends
You motionless, to count
Your mistakes while
Fascist blood snakes through
Blades of grass
The joke of
Autonomy translucent in
The light of the monitor, it’s perverse
Too cold, too harsh - it won’t
Let the yard really grow
On a bus to anywhere
I could scoop out my eyes, rip
Up my hair, screaming some fucking
Murder
And nobody will look
But they all watch
As the goosebumps raise
Grafting
My skin quietly falling to the floor
Landing in pretty fractals of lace.
”Today should've been Tomorrow”
angry raindrops sting
they leave
my cheeks cratered
tears that
were never mine
bus windows
offer no help
god,
what a terrible day
to be a cigarette
angry raindrops sting
they leave
my cheeks cratered
tears that
were never mine
bus windows
offer no help
god,
what a terrible day
to be a cigarette