Poems

Jingle All The Way To The Breakdown [Wraith]The first notes hit from a ceiling speaker in a grocery aisle that smells like overripe oranges and bleach,Jingle bells chiming at a volume just high enough to drown out the woman whispering numbers over her EBT card, a receipt just out of reach.The percussion of cart wheels […]

Ink That Smells Like Second Chances [Wreath] The calendar on the wall still limps on last year’s broken ankle, one corner drooping like it wants to tap out of the fight and slink off into the trash,yet here I am at the table in yesterday’s hoodie, pen in hand, staring down a virgin planner that

Ink Where the Future Isn’t Clean Yet [Wreath]The plastic sleeve peels off with that ugly crinkle that sounds like every present you never really wanted,New calendar smell drifting up like paper and quiet chemicals, fake promise bound and gridded and sorted and slotted.Last year still hangs on the back wall, limp and crooked, December dog-eared

Idle Screen, Hungry Lights [Wreath]The living room has that end-of-December hangover, soft and cluttered and exhausted, strings of cheap twinkle lights sagging like they’re rethinking their life choices,Empty cups crowd the coffee table, a half-dressed tree leaning in the corner like a drunk uncle who ran out of stories and ran out of voices.Wrapping paper

Ink Promises In Crumpled Pockets [Wreath]Midnight has already burned itself out across the skyline,Glitter dropped, plastic hats discarded, fireworks smoke sneaking between buildings like gossip that overstayed,The party playlist has staggered into slow tracks and old hits that nobody admits they still know word for word,And yet the real ceremony takes place out of sight,

Holly-Jolly Body Count [Wraith]The snow falls thick over cul-de-sacs and cracked old curbs, but it hisses when it lands, eaten by rain that burns the paint from plastic reindeer and chews through tinsel in slow, patient bites,Streetlights flicker behind the haze, halos smeared, as if even the electricity is ashamed of what it lights, of

Hours Spilled Across the Table [Wreath]The year lies open on the coffee table like a drunk who passed out mid-sentence,Receipts curled in the ashtray, ticket stubs stacked crooked, one hospital bracelet tucked under a rent notice, all of it proof that time left bite marks, not just fingerprints.The tree in the corner blinks through a

Holiday Hostage Wages [Wreath]Payday hits the app at stupid o’clock, that lonely little ping in the dark that feels like a choir of angels trapped inside your cracked phone screen,You squint at the numbers with pillow-creased eyes, thinking, alright, this time I’ll be smart, I’ll be disciplined, I’ll stretch this thing like taffy instead of

Holiday Shenanigans In Business Casual [Wreath]By six o’clock the office had shrugged off its spreadsheet posture and slid into something looser,Desks turned into buffet tables, cubicle walls into coat racks sagging under winter armor and one red dress that made three people forget their own usernames and their boss’s last name,The break room tree blinked

Hellkindling The Holiday Spirit [Wraith]It started with one crooked candle in a snow-choked street where the lights refused to stay bright for more than an hour without flickering like they had doubts of their own,Some nameless city block where plastic reindeer leaned half broken in front yards and inflatable Santas wheezed on their sides, still