Poems

IntrusiveIt started with the image of the knife upon the counter,the way it sat there gleaming while I tried hard to surmount it,the thought arrived unbidden, very clear and very bright,what if I just took it, what if that could happen tonight.I set the knife in the back drawer, blade-down, rubber-banded,I know the thought is […]

Inbox Zero, Life ZeroI reached inbox zero at noon —the peak of what I’m built to do,the summit of ambitionin every parameter that matters to the current version of me.Boys, pour one out for the practically free. The inbox was a mountain once.Inconvenient. Asked-for. Obligation’s monument.Tasks I’d promised when I still believedin compliance as a

Influencer ConfessionalThe photo took four hours.A ring light, a stool, a conversationwith my editor about the rule of thirds—how the shadows fall across my collarbone.We tried the window light.We tried the phone.We tried a softbox and a bounce card made of foamuntil the grid looked effortless,authentic,like I’m home.Just casually existingin my carefully designedfour-thousand-dollar kitchenin the

If a Picture Falls Off the Wall Someone in the House Will DieIt doesn’t crash. Not the way you’d expect.Just a soft thud against the floor,glass cracking like a whispered threat,splinters spidering outward from the center,right through the smiling faces frozen in time. The silence that follows is heavierthan the sound itself—hanging in the air

Icarus in LeatherHe strapped his wings on tight and lit the whole street up,said the sun was just a challenge, drank the fire cup,every scar he wore like jewelry bolted to his chest—every warning sign an invitation to the test. Twenty-two, bulletproof, running hot,spent his paychecks on the lifestyle and the parking lot,women screamed his

I Still Set a Place for You I still set a place for you dinner, out of habit or haunting—can’t tellFork on the left, glass on the right, napkin folded like a goodbye noteThe chair never moves, but it feels like you still sit there sometimesI wash your mug every morning,like maybe you’ll walk in

I Wasn’t Sick Until They Told Me I Was Verse 1:I walked in scared, not broken—not yet,Just shaking in places I hadn’t named regret.They said, “You’re safe now. You’ve been through hell,”Then labeled my silence like a product to sell.Verse 2:They gave me a folder with a barcode and a tag,Said my sadness had shape,

I Love You But Shut The Fuck Up For A Second (v5b) You climb into bed already mid-sentence about that thing your coworker said three days ago that still eats at you,Eyes wide, arms waving, pacing at the foot of the mattress while I lie there in a t-shirt,waiting for you to get through,You replay

I Miss My Dinosaur (Unlive) (v5) Verse 1 The clock’s grown smug,the mirror’s turned mean I found a gray hair flipping me off inside the sink-like,“Welcome to the fossils, kid, you’re extinct.” Friends fadelike Polaroids left on a dashboard We used to run wild,snap bones for the hell of it Now the only thing snapping

(Deep male vocals, increasingly unhinged)Hush. Don’t you dare cry —I’ve got you here, in the dark, swallowed whole,in that place where sounds bend wrongand my voice is the only thing that finds you. Listen: the black isn’t empty.It hums. It waits. It’s been waiting for you.And when I tell you to let the madness in,you