My Neck, mY bacK

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.

Pink Noise

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.


I cut your manicured lawn,

And fuck your mom.

I’m a suburban serial killer,

Empty and looking for filler.


I am perpetual depression,

And major in constant aggression.

I am obsessed,

At best.


I clean your shiny pool,

And play you like a fool.

A glimmer in my eye,

Watching your family die.


I make minimum wage,

Get high off rage.

Trophy wives,

Wasted lives.


I vacuum the pastel rug,

And sell your son drugs.

He can be just like me,

Trapped in suburbia eternity.

Bottle Nosed and Face Down

I wish I had giant eyes

The kind of eyes that are so glassy

And so glossy

that they cannot be real

I wish they would take over my sight

Allowing for hyper sight

Seeing through

Seeing over

Seeing who I am


I wish my eyelashes went further than my brow

Catching tears before they descend

Cupping the salty liquid

Returning it

Carving raw designs into my forehead

Telling me who I am


I wish the crook of my neck

Was large enough to consume my family

Store them with me

Even when they are long dead


Their bones would become mine



Showing me who I am


I wish I had a buzz cut

So short

You can see every mark

Every scrape

On my scalp

The kind of hair that makes you question gender

They can decide who I am


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.

Wall Ball

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



In a polyethylene lawn chain,


Starring at at the pea stone gravel,

Until the stones darken and melt together.

All the while, smelling the smoke.

The Glorified health conscious nothingness.


Spider webs but no spiders.

A mechanically driven government operation.

Handing out brochures,

Coffee stained, and catching dust endlessly.


Buy lives,

on a lawyers desk.

Stare until the images blend together.

Stare until it becomes the world,

It becomes the world.

Forgotten Balsamic

Hung on a Sunday,

Filing for a loan.

Sewing buttons back on pants,

Still afraid of the family dog.


Longing for ice cream on the steps of the general store.

Aesthetically pleasing 99 cent lollipops,

Unfinished hashbrowns.

A lettuce eating competition,

And stakes are high.