Poems

Floor Made Of Bodies Floor made of bodieshear the crackingunder your stride If I sink through the boardsI am pulling you downfrom the other side You trampled through friendslike pavementwalked on their ribsto get one inch higher Called it hustlecalled it hungerdressed your rot in a lieand sold it as a noble thought By the […]

Fine, Let It Burn Finelet it burnlet the sky turn blackand the streets crack under heat I ran around with bucketslong enoughlet someone else blister their feet Fire alarm chirps oncethen twicethen screams like a demonin a cheap apartment hall Smoke rolls under the doorin lazy ribbonspaint blisteringshadows tall I could grab the extinguisherI could

Fire Escape Hymn Fourth floor walkuphallway smells like greasefried onionsand the lease that will not cease Fire escape outside the bedroom glasswhere the building watches seasons pass Teenagers sneak a smokeand share the budexhaling futures thick as river mud Old man in 3B tends the leafy rowtalking to the plantsand making sure they grow Tonight

Final Hook (7) Three a.m. glowburning holes through my skullscroll till it hurtsjust to feel half numb Notifications silentbut my brain won’t quitliving in a blue-white coffinbuilt of clicks and counterfeit Drop the phone on the nightstandswear I’m done for good this roundbut I know that little buzzwill drag my dead ass backfrom the ground

Final Hook Thank you for holdingthank you for waitingwhile my life unthreads You want your system perfectI’m trying not to lose my head I’m just an ID on a schedulein a chair that won’t sit rightpatchworking other people’s chaoswhile mine rots out of sight End of shiftI hang the headset on its hooklike hanging dead

Final Hook (5) They say suicide is always an optionparked out past the last stop signa hard-line kind of freedomat the edge of the structure But every time I hit that thoughtI walk it backwardsstep by steptill the choice I make is smallerand I’m still herebruisedbut kept So if you hear me say it softlylate

Final Hook (6) I’ve seen more body bagsthan pay raises in this line of workmore zipped-up endingsthan mercy from the network They call it “public service”like faith alone can feedbut my bank accountand my consciencebleed the same shadewhen they bleed One day I might hang this badgeon a nail and not look backdrive past the

Final Hook (3) We’re stuck in this bad connectionthat keeps cutting out the heartlag between our sentenceslike it wants to pull us apart Every “I love you” hits a bufferevery hope hits delaywe’re hanging by a glitchy threadthat might snap any day One day my door might openand it won’t be a screen that shinesyou’ll

Final Hook (4) They say suicide is always an optionwaiting at the end of painbut I’m not marching there in silencelike a slave in the rain If that’s the last door standingI will pass a thousand firstchoosing sleepchoosing helpchoosing ragechoosing thirst And if dawn feels like a sentenceand not a brand new startI’ll still drag

Feed Me or Fuck Off Feed me or fuck offthat is the deal from here on outif you are not bringing something to chew onkeep my fucking nameout of your mouth I am done starvingwhile I clap for peoplewho never miss a feastI am the sin at the table nowand I am done with remorse