heart felt blunt words
he smells like he’s homeless but he lives in Beaches
he’s eating a sushi burrito.
he’s all about pretend panic attacks and shiny excuses.
daddy’s money, daddy’s boy.
living on the 56 floor and doesn’t know how too cook
city living metro man
If you get what you are given,
Do you ever really get what you are given?
If you take what is there,
you take it for granted.
And without a word they touched their bare bellies together,
Making slurping sounds.
Anna, with a drink in her hand said,
“It just made sense”.
“It just did” she repeated.
A ritual? A greeting?
Who knows.
I stare at you and light a cigarette,
Beginning our repetitive toxic duet.
Fully knowing I will never move on,
Rightfully hoping we could just get along.
Hot and wet are my streaming tears,
Paranoid and irrational are my fears.
We get past our problems with looming doubt,
We carve out our future with promised drought.
But who could I possibly destroy next,
Who could I torment to death?
This is negative and greyscale thinking.
Smoking, fighting, and sinking.
And my neigbours are old but they are up later than me.
My spelling is bad, yet I still write poetry.
Personality, personality, writing needs depth,
No rhyme scheme no syllable counts no breath.
My bare calloused hands killing flies,
With sheets of polyester, pizza boxes and zip ties.
That line was hard to swallow,
Like cum and medicine and pills and sorrow.
She has covered me in her sticky adhesive again,
Latex free?
Love free.
It impedes my vision,
Tugging at my eyelids.
Forcing the tears,
I have held for so long.
Sterile heart.
Sterile mind.
There is nothing sterile about me.
I’m tarnished,
No amount of latex free adhesive can glue me back together.
Glaring, I can see her smiling.
Ridiculing me.
As if I wanted,
The sticky tentacles of her caring.
The rails were cold on my hands
but so was the coffee we share with a straw
Topics of conversation trail off
into the luminous glow of childhood
Like the rules of kickball suppressing
we write our names on the cement walls
we watch the smoke crawl out of your house
I set my hand in fresh gum
warm from the chew
pale strings flow in the windless room
far enough to make us leave
Grazing those cold rails
we do not step on the cracks
they are toxic
and will hurl us back into the past
Practice makes perfect
when denying our lives and
living under rocks
He bought her 100 McChickens.
Only to show his love,
Kosher.
And, she only ate four.
She left him sitting,
In the middle of his parents bed.
With ninety six leftover sandwiches,
And no one to share them with.
Discarded retainer,
Its been a good six months Bessie.
Its not me
Its you.
Growing up without a mother.
FREE SCRAP METAL
That kitchen you always dreamed of
The three tiered mesh fruit basket in the centre, drawing energy
I am dipping my slightly charred pancakes into a tea I added too much sugar to
I release three confused tears out of my only working tear duct
Give it three years and your house will have burned
Too bad your husband made it out (don’t worry he died later)
Silently in the night
Three drawers in your refrigerator
Full of food you never got to taste
A baby of three years you never got to taste
Oh, sorry I mean never got to meet
Starrfishing 