In Blood
This man, teeth (flashing) a glimmer like a razor blade in the dark. Thinks in pictures, speaks in blood.
View ArticleSugar
It’s the table by the window where he abandons little pieces of himself. Paper cranes made from empty sugar packets just as hollow as himself, discarded.
View ArticleShells
Imagine she’s gone. And you exist as a shell in her room. Sitting on her empty bed, fingertips brushing gently on the sheets as you cry ignored prayers for God, Jesus, the Holy Ghost, to save her soul.
View ArticleCountdown
Not a time bomb with the stereotypical clicking crimson numbers More like a grenade Fingers clutched to the pin to be pulled.
View ArticleBut The Devil Sent Me
I couldn’t do you favors or keep you safe from harm. I can’t be your savior, I know you begged for a blessed, winged angel, but instead, the devil sent me. I am sorry.
View ArticlePhantom Feeling Pains
He could produce adoration like a smothering smog from a factory, and it would mean everything to him, a pang in his stomach, as I feel nothing. I have no heart I will let him tame. Sometimes I wonder...
View ArticleAuto-Friendzoned
I’m sorry. I’m taken by me, and this is no fucking joke. You’re auto-friendzoned. Let’s talk about when you finally escape the asexual “pantry”, and the first question is, “Do you masturbate?” asked at...
View ArticleA Little Longer
Late at night sleep evades me, and I honestly cease to care. Each hour I go a little longer.
View ArticleImmortal
She’s the type of woman to date artists, musicians, writers, photographers, to become immortal in their art.
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Scratched
My teacher told me the mistakes we make in our poetry are so shamed they should be scratched out hard until the paper bleeds.
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