Poems

Gold Bands in the Morgue Light Gold bands on our fingers, cold against the skinWe go through the motions, shrinking from with-inYou twist the ring while you pour your teaI fake a smile, and you look right through me.Gold bands in the morgue lightNo heat left in the shine, Trapped in the ritualtracing the design, […]

Glitter In The Wreckage We’re glitter in the wreckagebright in the crack of nightthe “fuck it, sing it anyway” misfiresthat somehow land just right I woke up on the wrong damn sideof a life I never really signed forhalf dressedhalf stressedcoffee burnedrent latebills piling on the floor Every channel on the screenis screaming that I’m

Fuck You, I’m Proud Of You Fuck youI am proud of youand I will say ittill it sticks in your thick skull Every tiny choice you maketo stayto standto textto eatadds up against the pull You climbed out of bedon a day that wanted you buriedunder blankets and dreamsthat smell like stale sheets and fear

Ghost Seat I am tired of being the ghost seatat this tablethe warm bodyno one quite includes in the room I sit at the same kitchen tableevery holidaysame chipped chairwith the paint rubbed thinfrom years of lean You pass plates over my handslike I am a shadowin the corner of an old home moviebarely seen

Friction Halo Wearing a friction halo lightbending round the neck tonightpulse is trippingshoes are loudlogic lost inside the cloud Sliding sideways through the frameshoulder first to stake the claimlow end melting through the walltiming to the heavy stall Streetlight cuts the broken blindtracing gold I have to findleather skirt and fishnet lineboots are planteddoing fine

Fuck Yeah, Tiny Victories Fuck yeahtiny victorieslike taking out the trashbefore it turns into a separate ecosystemin the hall Like texting back that one friendyou have been low-key ghostingbecause your brain turned simple repliesinto a wall Like getting dressed in real pantsand walking to the corner storeinstead of scrolling till you crawl You text me

Folded Like A Prayer I keep an eviction noticefolded like a prayeragainst my chestwords sharp as broken glasssaying “you failed the test” Every time I pull my wallet outit’s there like a threatholding all my little failuresin a thin black silhouette Woke up to a paper in my walletI don’t show to anyonefolded into quarterslike

Forks And Fault Lines We got headlines cutting through the familylike a dull rusted knifeturning one long kitchen tableinto a front line for life Mom sets out the chipped platessame roastsame mashedsaying grace under her breathTV humming in the backgroundcrawling with the latest count of death Dad walks in with his phonealready shouting headlines in

Flowers From The Fuckup Section Grocery store at midnightonly the lonely wandering aislesthat smell like bleach and old bread You head for the backwhere the dented cans livethe markdown meatthe fruit nobody pickedwhen the sun was overhead Right next to thema rack of flowerswith wilted edgesand stickers that won’t stick Roses leaning to one sidedaisies

Fluorescent SaintsVerse 1Hallway tiles glow a sickly off-white under lights that buzz like tired insects, sanctifying lockers, water fountains, dated motivational posters,Teenage bodies drift from class to class in denim and boredom, carrying notebooks, bruises, crushes, and that low background dread they call growing up,The sound system coughs out announcements, lost items, practice times, substitute