these under arm aspirations lime drops left behind mildewed overnight trailing a trace on edges for a cat to gently rub its nose against revived by an almost breath a wisp of a breeze faint as a feather floating neverminded. In the deep dead spit an afternoon fills with afterthought like kites sailing overlooked as a storm circles [and we made an attempt to cast aside our most vulnerable our most useless we'd watch ourselves slap the

i’m not packed yet. i never will be. because i decided to start drunk and wonder what i’d look like wondering how i’d look like inswimming trunks i bought a year ago.

I held a posture laboring over a precipice: a page filled with so many planets verses on the verge of meeting but they never did maybe I didn’t lean close enough afraid of what was there in a millisecond as they all collapse in a margin.

As long as I keep quiet quietly behave leave unnoticeably stupor quietly talking to myself so as no one cares so as no one feels intimidated I can continue my deprivation. As long as I quietly disobey I can still sing myself asleep with what is left of me and still be caught with the cheapest of moments. Believing what is imagined could be felt, proven even continuing my

I don’t expect directions they’re useless anyway as my reference I’ll have to depend upon my own voice tending to my own discrete guilt swearing back as I hope nobody’s notice in the clouds nobody’s thoughts in the darkness to make it seem better I’ll imagine a Hero just so not to remember how much measured haunts my own stairs listening too long becoming so too commonplace dying while my own shadow

…in the dimness of pitch oil lamp light you close your eyes and ask “Pee-cé mash line?” “No,” your contender says….after school, during recess time plaid skirts twirl on one leg ribbons, ruddy colored ribbons dangle from unraveling hair devoured by the day. …old women infectiously go to church curry yellow bonnets bob to the Lord’s prayer a cockroach runs down starched yoked Sunday best dress. ….an island of interruptions common

There is sterility in travel. In the life of a transient flyers are more attentive more available than a mother they cling even while you pretend to slip their salutations through the sweatiness of a smug refusal to their hand-out smiling aimlessly into guilt. Xeroxed remindful-ness nonsensical rhymes like the gossiped 3 little pigs waiting for wings with the at last wolf’s huff puff scatter lift fall litter In some states, the crack

I was meeting my partner at this pub after work. We hadn’t been out in awhile, and the weather was perfect for sitting outside, sipping on a Stella and enjoying a good cigarette. My partner chose this pub that she’d frequented during her law school days, an Irish pub with an outside patio. I had

How do you do it? When they’re no longer there for you create lines around Don’t step over my imaginary margin for them to keep as a keepsake. But you regret the edge you drew the last words you said because that’s the only map you can remember. All I have left Nothing is what you sleep with when there’s no comfort in a comma lingering

I held out my palms for a reading. Miss Blackette looked at them closely, running her index finger against their lines, she said my hands are not in love with each other. I brought what she had asked: a strand of lover’s hair and a wrinkled picture kept in my wallet. Miss Blackette held up the strand of lover’s hair and a