Poems

She Walks Like Whiskey BurnsThere is a walk that says I know exactly what I carry—not hurried, never ordinary.She has that walk: slow, heavy-hipped, and sure,every step a declaration and a cure for whatever boredom had settled in my chestbefore she crossed my line of vision.Each footfall lands like a low note, like a sign—the […]

Sick With ItThere is a poison in my bloodstream.It does not kill me fast—it coats the inner walls,makes the bad things last. Every time I see you walking talland satisfied,something cold and green and hungryturns inside. I tried religion.I tried the bottle.I tried the road.I tried unloading all this venom off my load. But the

Shattered the Mirror The bathroom mirror fell off the wall from the vibration,Of her screaming in the bedroom, the relation,Between her orgasm volume and essential damage in this place,Is one to one, she hit a peak and the low. Frequency of her voice resonated through the studs,And the mirror lost its grip and hit the

She Looked At HimI was in the middle of a sentence and she lookedat him across the room and everything got hookedinto a different channel a different broadcast.The sentence I was finishing came out too fastinto a room that wasn’t listening anymore.She looked at him and I knew the score. The raw physics of attention

She Masturbes in Church Bhrooms She’s got a crucifix necklaceand lube in her purse, biting her lip through the sermonsSitting in pews with soaked lace panties,thighs twitching like she’s praying to cumAnd when the pastor says repent, she just smiles and slips out the side doorShe picks the cleanest stall, folds tissue on the tank

Shaking Like a LeafMy hands were trembling when I pulled her shirt up over her head,First pair of tits I ever touched and my whole brain went dead,She laughed a little, not at me, just at the electricity,Said relax, we got all night, ain’t no time limit see. I fumbled with her bra clasp like

Sharp Tongue, Soft BruiseI sharpen every syllable until the edge begins to bleed,planting jagged rows of intellect like a winter crop of seed.I wear a suit of irony to hide the shaking of my handswhile building fortresses of logic on these shifting coastal sands. You try to touch the center but you trip upon a

Shades of Blue (Remastered) Verse OneI remember that kitchen light flickering like a dying promise,the way we left dishes in the sink as though leaving things unfinished was our shared language of exhaustionand yearning, the quiet between us thicker than smoke and just as choking,I kept saying I was fine while my voice crackedlike paint

Screaming on the InsideI paint a smile across the cracked and compromised circuitry of my face,Duck-tape holding down the inventory of every riot and disgrace,Clock into the madness like it’s printed on the morning dress code card,Bleeding underneath the jacket while they call me professional and hard. Mirror holds somebody I don’t entirely recognize by

Running CommentaryShe’s got a mouth in bed that’d strip paint from drywall,a torrent of filth unleashed the second that I crawlbetween her thighs, where she calls her own racelike some fevered announcer: I feel your tongue, stay in that place. You’re so fucking hard I can feel you through the sheets,she says, get over here