I want to feel something else
I wish I knew for myself
                   [What the fix was]
but because
I’m lost
I need your hand
In the dark
I need a hand
I need you|r| hand
I need a hand


butterfly scales

Maybe aboard my steel eagle
                I may make my ends
              Expect drama elsewhere
                        I won’t be bringing it with me
                  Butterfly scales glisten on the
                                   last iridescent frontier
                           between reunion
                                        & insanity
           I hardly have the wherewithal
                                          to swallow
                                              this loss

            when the owl searches at night
            I hear your call

Reap What You Sow

Truth is
     I meant every word
     because I’m cursed
     because the present
     is an ongoing nightmare
     and I know
     it’s only going to get worse
     from here so I’ll jump these
     randomly placed hurdles
     just for you

    without you
    there is nothing
    there is no identity
    there is
    [whatever that means]
          I wish I could hand you a brochure
       because    this world tour is looking
 & I know I have the ticket to leave the ride
                                   at any time
                                  but I’m
                                 not ready
                     to stare death in the eye –

& it’s not like you didn’t tell me goodbye
                     & I should’ve wondered more
                                  at the time
                                  about the timing
                but life’s a prick in the same way
                         I’m a horrendous mess and
                              menace so
                       check to see|the hollows
                           in my eyes may just be
                                      [pupils] instead


Me-m|ory Ga/ps

because you think everything
                  you love can be replaced
        a churlish lie is just pleading to be
                    In reality——–
           I am sick of dreaming

            Inspired by: NF – Lost


Anyone know the quickfix
      for grief?

     Anyone know any tips tricks
       besides suffering/

     Is there a self-destruct mode?

    Am I missing the button?

      Where’s mine? Can you push it?
                        Can I?


Why When How

The what-if game used to be beloved
                      The never ending fantasy

The reality is possibilities
            may be inevitability especially
         when we comfort ourselves with
                                                   what -ifs
             and when it’s no longer a game
              of wry imaginative fucking satire
              and you’re staring at a casket
            that’s the last question
                                   you’ll ever ask
     the questions come beginning with
                         & the answer is silent
                           or the answer is manic
                             sudden panic & abrupt
         keening through space and time
            what if

Authors Note: I Love you Pop.


Cradled in my arms
       are lifeless feathers

              The fragile heap
                     my white raven
                     & first love
                             is gone

                   I will never be the same


Happy Ending

There are rare moments
    when I wish I could call
     & I know you’d answer
     But 》only
     It would be as it was
    When my phone wasn’t broken
                & my screen wasn’t cracked
                But then I think
                I know
                I don’t want to go back
                I don’t need to go back

 I’m sick of hearing “I’m sorry”
                    –trust me,
                     I’m going to be just fine.


Wolf’s Head

I love the bite
    the chill
           & surrender to its eternity
     You can always
          in layers
but you cannot steal
             your breath
                   back when the wind
                          sucks it out of your mouth

 I was born on a dark December morning
       where sun rises slow as molasses
           broke through as a shrill scream
               rolls over hills / everything it
                              touches it shatters

      I am made of chaos
            I navigate torrential waters
         A human storm
                  one resistant to bottling
  I am much more than even I can handle
                maybe that’s why my body
                                                   betrayed me

             & now I know my epitaph
         farewell for now, beautiful world
                            God knows I’ll be back


in thought

I admire the tattoos on your skin
                 they stimulate &
        give away [subtle hints]
          to who you might’ve been
                   |before me|
                  You know,
            all those past sins
             but I want to worship…
        figures, my Creator proves
             he can hide better than I
      any fucking hour of the day

  I’ll pretend Friday is hump day
            even though like Nine Inch Nails
       sang: everyday is exactly the same
          Maybe it is, because it’s without you
      So I’m left to languish
          arbitrarily fastening what should be
              torn and I’m not old fashioned
       I’m pretty damned | I’m impressionable
                    《which is to say》
                              I leave