dark man dream

A strong woman needn’t call herself such. A witch is a witch, the end. Words are just noises, and I am just dirt mixed with water, mud. In awe of hypocrisy, I sip my hot chocolate. A caring tongue burn is restful resurrection from the thorns I prick my eyes with. An iced-sweet tea doesn’t …

they long for her

I am acquired taste I am dirty under nails, fingerbeds, cuticles, vaginalhood, I am everything that breathes and dies in your mouth I am serpentine, sanguine, cellophane, serenade I am soft tender claws on your back, a cough drop drip A throat slit A tongue sucked black A black sucked tongue Fierce devotion to your …

we’ve turned soft

we’ve turned soft a nation of tender meat everything insults the Greats aren’t Great we praise the mediocre it’s insane. who will read poems about flaming hot cheeto’s & Tinder dates a 100 years from now, and say that it is the greatest work they’ve ever read?  regurgitating the same, fucking, shit. I’m not here …

cemetery bed poem #28

I’ve felt four years, six years, nine years old most days... I’ve rarely felt this body age,  I’ve taken all the blather, and thwarted it to fit  the dialogue  that best suits this suffering. There are no truth in ghosts,  there are no truth in echoes. These voices belong to someone  other than me. How …