play the hits she screamed in my earits all we want to hear—those glory bells of yesteryear the jams from the days we knewwe’re hot and young and freelike we’d always be like we’d always behot and young and freeat least temporarily time is a funny thingnot a cycle not a ringjust a line that…

Two ships on the sea,drifting towards the sanddo you think they knewthey’d run themselves aground?Monstrous things, moved with inertia. “Languid and unturning,”we said to save ourselves the trouble;beached monuments grand and majestic,a lighthouse unsightly.

What’s the sixth when I’ve tried five? Surely nothing bad, it’ll be fine. It’s just another pull, another go And then reload. It’s fine, it clicked five times.Nothing happened after four and you’re afraid of just two more? You might ask why —because Cowards don’t try and the Bold don’t die. I’m ahead of the…

i often wondered if id see the endnot like the folks of pompeiiwho saw hell and thoughtit’s surely not just us but i mean the real onethe big onethe last one for all of usand for what? not much. —but worth a fight.

She showed her whole ass to the man in the pastasking the world “who wants to know?”When I grabbed her drink and offered a seatshe said “I can’t sit here all alone.”Bare-assed on a stool she thought I was cooland I told her I definitely wasn’t. She insisted I knewwhen I asked what she was…

wandering lostscooping shit from a litter box it sounds better in my head(and the music, too,is right in tune) these pretentious ways to sayi miss you the cat’s in the toilet taking a drinkand where’s my phone again? —

I’ve seen you naked a thousand times before —one hand on the handle of the door,halfway out,like you were born to run. The memories that muscles makethe dumb flexing of a mindless few;they never move a day in their lifebut they dance to one hell of a tune. “That’s how they teach you to fly.”…

The year I left homewas years in the making;Clouds gather before the rain;you make a mountain in an instant.The moment the earth tides crashfissures scar the landscape irreversible –mountains and valleys and textureand summits. “Texture makes meaning” my teacher told me ina class on the English language. The word wascontact. “Feeling is friction.” Clouds willgather,…

I convinced myselffalling is flyingthe windrush risingstomach balling up like a doughnut holeup and out and over and inside outwondering of asudden stopping but you never look down I don’t know what happenedit was a long way down.I never looked I never saw.My feet just touched the ground.The bottom, rock bottom, ‘l’ll never know.I won’t…

the sum of many partsthe many the lesserthe anti-anti-agressor the man in your headthe futurethe getting aheadthe bottle the winethe grapethe good time the fade-inthe gone againthe rhythm your heartthe water the surfacethe reflective superstitious the “listen!”the hearingthe muted morningthe dawn you wanted to believe inthe noonthe truth the hoursthe morningthe timethe loss the thing…