17 January 2017

Predictable Motions

I want to marry
a girl or a boy
and be as normative
and dehydrated as fuck,
carrying multiple infants
on my back, a soldier muscling
through the terrible terrains
of america, all soft, grey trouble.

Because I am depressed
and familiar, a pretend Sexton
with candy cigarettes,
I will require eighteen hours
in bed, smoothing my greasy bangs
close to my brow
in romantic, predictable motions.

I am a flake and a terror, but I know how to float.

I will teach you
how to swim if you teach me
how to dream.

03 January 2017

No purchase necessary

I spread my love across
separate gift cards
and payday loans.

If only the tooth fairy
still visited, I would
take pliers to my own mouth.

There is no salve
at the dollar store,
and there are no pills
at my mother's house,
and yet I still snoop
through drawers,
examine dirty shelves,
pretend to tie shoes
that are already
perfectly tight,
to be strong
when the same
questions sting.

I spread my love across
unmade beds in unwelcome homes.

In a dream, I give
my teeth to you,
and you are whole again.

13 December 2016

I Want You

I want you
to be proud of me
and have me as
your noble girl.
I want to laugh with you
and cry with you.
Can you hold my face
and wipe my tears?
I will fill your belly
and wrap your shivering body.
I will trace your features
and kiss your chin.
When the lights burn out
I will look to your eyes
and hope they will
carry me softly
to your side, where I belong.

20 November 2016

The Collector

When you loved me,
you told me secrets,
and I carefully wrapped each one
and stored them where even you
forget, under leaves and snow,
under traditions and inside jokes.
I recall the location of every truth,
hardened, even though you
are long gone, your footprints trailing.
These treasures
were not enough to keep you.
Surely, I will collect others,
squirrel them away
for a time when I am useful.

12 November 2016

More Than

I am more than
a nasty woman.
I am a bad bitch.
Get the fuck
out of my way.

10 November 2016


Maybe there will be
buyer's remorse,
or maybe we will adapt
to the taste of blood.
I hope not,
but my brain fires
my brain is fire.
Maybe we deserve it.
This is what happens
when we find
our nooses decorative.

04 November 2016

Worth Keeping

I wanted the chance
to love you through it,
the thick of it,
the rose bush you
threw yourself into.
I wanted the chance
to rise together,
you softly holding me
when I show you I am
a rose worth keeping.
But I am not who you want.
I am a tired ache
and a delicate reminder
of who you can't be
and what you can't do,
and I am left in the bushes,
red and swollen
but unplucked.

02 November 2016


I'm dark like Nick Cave.
I'm sad like Morrissey.
I'm tired like Ian Curtis.
I'm mad like Black Francis.
I'm pompous like Bono.

31 October 2016

Like the Jellyfish

Like a jellyfish washed up on the shore,
that girl is too scary to help.
Compassion mostly extends to cute things
or things that look most like us,
small noses and big eyes,
too safe to be careful.

You either make meaning
or you find meaning

and that can be good or bad.

26 October 2016

Finally Gone

"i need help,"
she said.
and i pictured
the raccoon we saw,
its insides exposed,
leaving a trail
where tires carelessly
drew rushed lines.
i drew a rushed line
from my mouth:
"i am so sorry."
i grabbed her hand,
fumbled with it,
wet clay in my palm.
"let's go.
let's get you what you need."
we flew above the scene
as shapeless ghosts.
below, we saw the raccoon,
running away
from its shell,
safe for the moment,
and everything became
smaller and smaller
until it was finally gone.