Tag Archives: anger

Grave-Side

  You, Parasitic lesser beast, Gladly feasting Upon my white, pulsating shoulder A mosquito more daring Sinking into a familiar vein Bleeding out, not bleeding alone. We are ruins of an ancient place, Where history fades, softy rewritten Amended to … Continue reading

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Triage

  The doctor looks over my x-Ray Saying “This looks good, Except for the shin bone jabbing through Your flesh.” He can mend it, easily. But that fragmented bone Pushed so hard to be free, Perhaps I should let it … Continue reading

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Morning

  I see my hairs are split As I lay against The crevices of duvet skin. I tear them out, With my disquieted digits. Fingernails digging into my palm, A damp fist full of injustice And disturbed growth, My eyes … Continue reading

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Yourself

I sigh at your impertinence Keeping my smile towards the door And my mouth around goodbyes As you asked me If I could love you As dearly as you loved yourself The afterglow of A fling that’s been flung, Basking … Continue reading

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Baptismal Font

We’re napping in a basement Seeping with sweat Sewage leaking through the cracks In the floor and our hearts. This foundation is a tribute To Old Faithful. Matched fingertips Charred from mediocre string strumming, From cracking into a piƱata That … Continue reading

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RXistentialism

You will be beautiful A patched sweater Wrinkled, stained In the back of your closet Thrown next to the DIY distillery that you Crafted near the end of your senior year. But you will be beautiful. Beautiful, Like the open-mic … Continue reading

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One Last Cigarette

You sacrifice your last thought To turn into a new man Until you walk back to that house- – Apartment And back into the talks- – Promises To: never be him again You wake up on the wrong side A … Continue reading

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Before You Gave Up

The ocean groans A lover’s moan While I’m safe at home With the person I’ve grown into. There’s no wind, no cries No sin. This is how the end begins. You’re a worn-out cliche, I’m weary of another day; I … Continue reading

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Hospice Eyes

Hospice-eyes spit daylight in a spiteful, restless tone; floats above a timeless flinch that breaks beneath the sheets. Rose-shade glass, that blinds your eyes, but fastens to your doubt. Daylight pours but can’t afford a brain-dead harmony. Through this rot, … Continue reading

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