Poems

Netflix And Go Down On Me You stroll in with a streaming queue longer than our time and a bag of snacks that could feed a small household till dawnDrop on my couch like you own itscroll past twenty serious titlesthen land on something dumb with zombies on the lawnYou call it movie night like […]

Neon Numbers Over My Head bright Numbers Over My HeadMy face is not on the window but it’s hanging in their eyesLittle payday loan shop burning red against the skiesSign says “Bad credit welcome” in soft electric greenLike a spider saying “friend” to every fly it’s ever seen. I walk in with my paycheck already

Names in Invisible Ink I used to dream in color, drew futures on the wallsWrote promises on napkins, ignored the way they’d fallThey said I had potential, said I’d do something bigBut every year got smaller, burying the gig.These are words written in invisible inkPages of a story washing down the sinkI forget who I

Neon Bruise Heart bright Bruise HeartYou light your cigarettes off stove burners and bad decisionsstand by the window like every city light owes you a debtYour jacket smells like a lost weekendeyeliner smeared in a way that looks cool on a screen but on you just screams “I’m not done yet” Every love you ever

My Safe Word Is “Get The Fuck Out” You show up with that grinthinking charm replaces honestyhand on my hip before you even shut the doorTalking big about consentdropping buzzwords you scraped from a thread while your eyes shop the floorYou say you are chill, you say you respect linesthen your hands wander where my

My Safe Word Is “Therapy” You joke that we are so well adjusted for two people who panic at loud noises and make eye contact like it might bitePull out the rope, the cuffs, the pretty black collargrin at me over your shoulder in the soft yellow of the bedroom lightI feel that familiar spark

Muted Line You say you want honesty and then mute the call the second my voice stops flattering your designI watch your lips move on the screen with the sound cut offwhile my words buzz against a dead lineYou ask what is wrong with methen talk over the start of every answer like it is

My Anxiety Has A Favorite Hoodie There is this one hoodie hanging from the chair that knows every panic sweat your body ever threwSleeves chewed at the cuffs, zipper half deadsmell of old coffee and cold rain baked all the way throughYou reach for it before therapy, before workbefore any phone call that might go

Mouth Like A Furnace I do not kiss, I consumelips like a chute where everything goes inEvery hand on my skin is a snack I finish and toss aside with a grinI drag lovers through sheets like fast-food bagscrush them flat, lick the salt off my nailsTell them they are special while I am already

Mouthful of Nails Verse 1 Alarm is screaming in the darkFirst thought is missing every mark. Water spot is watching downWhile I drag myself around. Floor is cold beneath the feetSmell of sugar, stale and sweet. Phone is flashingnames scroll by, People aiming for the sky. Verse 2 Jaw is tight and feels all wrongClenching