Neglecting Punctuation Marks

You haven’t used an ellipsis
since the IV bag of religion
found its way into your veins
and began pumping the answer
into all major organs, taking away
the possibility of there being
more to the story…

You’ll manipulate an ellipsis
and mold it into an answer -
a period that ends the discussion
even though you refuse to
talk about the period
or the blood it’s spilled.

You haven’t used a question mark
since you found the answer and
that makes me wonder:
Have you searched for it at all?


How to Take Care of Two

I like the way you walk
with an intersection
spine & hips

Each trying to get where
(s)he’s going
in opposing directions
but the traffic lights
are broken
and they must
wait for each other,
so you accommodate
them both by
swaying when you
walk straight

People look at you as if
you’re a terrible dancer
but you just laugh with them
because they’re the ones
who need to find partners
when you’re already
a duet

Your skin never learned
how to take care of two
so she tends to forget
to cover up one or the other
when it’s time to get
tucked in
but you still
kiss her good night
and tell her
she’s doing a
great job

I like that
I like the way you walk
with an intersection and
a smile driving both ways


"Just Do It"

The phone’s ringing
It’s ringing
Answer it

If it’s important they’ll call back
Or leave a message

It’s ringing again
Answer it
Answer it
Move your hand
Good job
They’ll call back if it’s important

It’s not ringing anymore


Can’t find the potatoes
Just go ask someone who works here
Right - just go ask
I’ll just go look some more
Maybe they’re out of potatoes

Just go ask
They’re standing right there
Just go walk up and ask
I might not remember what I’m asking for
Right - I’m asking for potatoes

Come on
Are you kidding me right now?
They’re just fucking potatoes
Go ask

Move your leg
Move your other leg
Good - you’ve got this
No, they’re walking away!
They probably don’t have potatoes anyway


This looks like a good job - good money
Apply for it
Hit ‘apply’ and submit your resume
What if they call me?
What if they want an interview?
That’s what you want them to do
What if I don’t answer the phone?
Then you won’t get the job
I want the job though
Then answer the phone
Isn’t there another way for them to reach me?
Not if you want the job
I do want the job
Then answer the phone
Maybe I don’t


From an Alien


Why you had not heard from me before now and why you will not hear from me again

Little humans

With your
fists up
guns out
tongues hot

Swarming the
intersection of
skin shade
faith taste

Licking your lips
for a soft spot
along the throat

you think
is a myth


(no) Vacancy


I am           suffocating
in a world           full
of        empty                      space

I fill it
with         important

but the
             empty                    space
gets                                                 bigger

I              don’t know
                                    kill me

the weight of


we are


a generation
obsessed with
the birth of
synchronized mouths
and the suicide of
giving a fuck

we groupthink
and slaughter the

our souls
so we can
save on gas

the bus allows
for more opinions
to be drowned
into a drone

and we like our
chances of
making it
as one bullet
in a massacre


The Secret: Uncovered

Victoria’s Secret does not carry my bra size
which translates as

"You are not Victoria"
"Your bra size is not a secret"

But I am the most Victoria of all Victorias
and my bra size is a secret
(read below to uncover the secret)

You see, Victoria is a woman
and I am a woman
and hey - would you look at that!
you don’t know my bra size

And apparently the bra store
of all bra stores
does not know my bra size either

So there’s that

Hint: Victoria doesn’t know


Feral Teeth

She squeezes into her skin
each morning like her race
squeezes into skinny jeans,
laying on the bed and
kicking into the air,
forcing organs to

stop playing around
this is serious business

The top half is like overalls
and she has to make sure
to clip herself in
on both sides
before she can leave
because daddy doesn’t
like it when she
exposes herself

Of course,
that’s the only time
we’ll look at her -
when her skeleton
is peaking out and we
can see the imprints
of feathers,
as if a bird crashed into
her and left its final mark
on her hardened spine

When she’s all zipped up
it’s as if she’s one of us
except for the
having no veins part -
there’s nothing she can
do about that

Rumor has it she’s a stray
but we can never be too sure


I like the way sadness
envelops me in her arms

but she is not
the romantic type


I thought that I could just say hello to you and you would be mine.


The Irony of It All

A bomb never born is the worst

kind of bomb. The threat is always

hot on my cheek but the slap

never comes. The ticktocking

gets quicker with every flap of my arms

and the impact takes on exponents

with every death that I do not die but

I feel like I am dead. Shrapnel pokes

my ribs with each breath that I dare take,

cutting deeper once my heart has

found a comforting niche.

The ticking is deafening.

It gets louder drum by drum

drum by hum and hum by thump

and I always wonder when it

will peak but it follows no rules.

I hear each bludgeon to my body

and yet I cannot see them because

the bombs never hatch.

I have drowned in sweat.

I have drowned in sweat

by threat and threat alone.

But puffs of oxygen still use my

throat as a means of transportation

and I’m not sure what that makes me.



A word so fragile
and crumbling -
you must fill it
with hot breaths
of whispers
to keep it afloat

Just make sure
that your
whispers warm
like the hands of
a found lover,
not like the hands of
a flaring cancer cell


The Aftermath of Silence

I know what it’s like to die

My heart has skipped and stopped
and danced around in puddles
and skidded in the Sandy grounds

The fall, the moment
I’m no longer standing
and not yet on the ground,
is the only part I don’t know

The others though,
they don’t know death

They still sleep,
immortal for the time being

They’ll have that shocked look
(you know the one)
when the bullet hits,
act like they’re surprised
something like this
could happen

Something like this
could happen

I’ll laugh
and shake my head a little
once I’m on the floor
because at least I’ll be
expecting it


It’s a Friday night
and I’m writing
fucking poetry
while you’re probably
trying to find someone
to sleep with for the night

I probably don’t
want you to read this
and I probably don’t
want to write this

and yet here I am
writing this
and hoping that
for some
completely unknown
you’re reading this


we are

a generation
obsessed with
the birth of
synchronized mouths
and the suicide of
giving a fuck

we groupthink
and slaughter the

our souls
so we can
save on gas

the bus allows
for more opinions
to be drowned
into a drone

and we like our
chances of
making it
as one bullet
in a massacre

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