the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.
Her brown eyes, how a fig considers itself.
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
The collective failure of ethical standards
Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.
It recommended soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent to parent might calm and soothe the kid.
a folksome, gruesome opera of gauze and malcontent.
I imagine that undressing a color, though, would be so much like peeling a memory away from the grey and the white matter of your brain.
and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?
anger, like you can sink teeth into, candy apple
Yes I am guilty, I’m guilty. A sin was desirable then. Bring the dancer back to the stalks.
Empty vessels make the most sound, I think, as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.
Part of being a good sad person is always painting the shadows in the right direction and knowing what sorrow to art with.
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.
You let the yellow glow from eye sockets. The building up the street is burning faster and faster.
Try not to see your own predicament in every fucking thing.
I am still waiting for the lion
You said it was okay to blame what goes wrong on the planet