"there are ghosts here"
she lets the words fall heavy upon the room
their tone lending a prolonged silence
a few stifled laughs

and for her,
the reality of an intruder is harder to grasp
than the curse of a burial ground
where spirits rise

to haunt your drunk ass at 3am on a weekday

show me a way

what wrong with you?

i walk around just fine

breathing too

somethings missing

what's missing? 

what's missing? 

what's wrong? 

just a way of being 

nothing to say wrong is it

wrong 

what's missing? 

no one could deny 

5th Street Exit

dark as whales
great semis ply the freeway
roaring their loneliness

I flit across youtube
sleepless swallow

love and hope pass
like kidney stones

Poetry is for saying what no one has said before

"Wubolding.

Wub

Wubble

Ding.

                                                                             That's his name,
                                                                      The poor sweet thing."

                                              -What no one has ever said about a clinical psychologist.

work detail

resisting the urge to spit in the fire
and pee in the hot tub

This is why I am billing you for forty hours
instead of maybe twenty minutes.

fifteen yr old non-virgins talking at the bus stop / this is not your mother's grocery list

• The condom broke when
• Brandon's dumb ass 
• tried putting it on. He
• said, "It's ok--we'll just
• get Plan B afterwards," so
• we ended up walking to
• Walgreens. Yeah, you heard
• right. Walked all the way
• there. Plan B? Shit's fucking
• expensive. I don't got the
• money for that. Brandon?
• You kidding? He didn't buy
• nothing, not for me. Whatever.
  
  
• I hear
• you can eat a whole bottle
• of vitamin C instead.

An Extremely Cogent and Insightful Critique of Contemporary Economics

they say more new jobs
will help every-one

a job's just a thing
that needs to be done

oh please, southwest punk rock cowboy
push your hair back and balance yourself
that single earring is throwing me off

Pubate

I would climb an oak with woven mittens

to prove that you undoubtedly fit inside me.

Your monocle is pleasing and my white

shorts are arbitrarily white

with blotches of redwood from hysterical

snorts at your vocabulary.

I would have been deeply in this hobbed

tree – burrowed into the rotting wood like

a wrecking worm. I wanted to you, so,

to hold my sticky feet inside your hands like

you would a small dead humming bird

but if you were to crouch, I

 would need a decade of forgiveness. 

Bend

It's almost the end
Flying round the last bend
I should feel compelled but I'd rather pretend
I'm a lily
Brainless yet beautiful still
I'll bloom and I'll sway and I'll wilt at your will.

today I saw
the prettiest apple
it did not stay shiny but rather
oozed as I sunk my teeth into
its thin skin
I could've
carved my name into that skin
peeled it off piece by piece
laid the pieces out to dry
cut the body open
hid the seeds for a much lonelier day than today
I could have
if I hadn't swallowed it so quickly
and threw away the core