the empty spaces in a bed

can wear a person down

to a hard shell of a thing

a profound haiku

placing my heels down

on cold morning linoleum

what a boner-kill

Afterburner

In your voice you

capture what evades the page

           a phrase 

               raised again and again

                      the pitch rising 

                 the stress of your diaphragm 

      gives physicality

I cannot.

I am confined to this leaf

for to write a feeling 

is to contain it,

and to sing it, 

shines iridescent 

makes it seem

worth something more

than an off-hand scribble, 

crumpled paper, folded twice. 

Shall I put it in your pocket, or throw it out

forever lost?

I cry, so hard, but to you it’s all pretend. 

unpopular opinions

a black flower of resentment

blooms in my chest when you yell

across the plaza

"that score is a piece of shit"

and i must restrain fists

curled tight

nails carving pink moons in my palms

because i can't respect you

if you hate

trent reznor

New Englad, you

close up the sky to me

I want to stand on mesas and see

the history of myself

reflected in that view

Pedro Killface errata

Saw Chance in a grocery store, it was Smiths. he was bent low with pale green circles in his ears
We were in Socorro, his dad, my mom and thought
Jesus fuck Christ thank fucking God you're alive, bro.

He cut off all his long beautiful hair.