You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

Listen to me: I know
the winter gloom in
mid-summer…

Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.

here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

I have an axe
with hearts gashed

and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

I myself should never have been born

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

He has stories that I am not in
anymore. It’s healed this way.

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.