a round lawn ornament placed delicately on glitter grass dew gleaming and beaming at me as i peek through the blinds. cars that pass by make a striped pattern of light move through my darkened room. into

Sweating and sluggish heart beat the eve of the eclipse in part might be the result of anticipation. Am I wanted or not. Rather than giving you some kind of ultimatum I’d like for you to dig a shallow

Widows peak and Springsteen cutoff sleeves have me feeling like a beetle on its back politely crunching ice. Our boyish innocence. I’m waiting for an answer. Laying low and breathing slow in the reeds

I wonder if shame’s got you in a chokehold or you’re doing me a favor in the only way you know how. Protection comes in different forms

They close their eyes while gloved hands slide over. Spiraled nerves set off alarms. It’s been so long since they’ve been touched. Fog comes through nasal passageways in a slow exhalation. it settles around

i'm racing towards the sunset but every time i look back on you i spin out. my future is vivid. we aren't the same and you can't come along even though i wanted desperately to make room for you. crawl

Like the sun you’re a hallow passageway. My serpentine arms coil your legs. I used to think you were the only one who could answer my riddle. Sometimes I still do. You put your hand on my head and I melted

I'm not really held close. I just come out sometimes. Eyes gone, he emits a golden echolation from his open mouth.

My moms been playing Chris Isaak since I had soggy Cheerios in my chubby fists and before long-term recall development. I’d get sterilized if sterilization was more effective than Nexplanon. Babies stare

. I could see you sensing me but not comprehending me. My body is like an adolescent male who isn’t particularly athletic. My hair is long and I have a square jaw not totally masculine or feminine. It

it's that cold inkling of doubt that trickles from the top of your head to the middle of your forehead. maybe we aren't limited to the confines of this reality hmm?

Of course I’m held close somewhere in the upper left pocket. that’s what kills me I think. how closely I’m held. And how intangible that closeness is. I can’t see anything I just hear voice murmurs. I

I think it should be interesting to see him set his life up like a dollhouse. Neatly arranging cardboard cutouts. He tries to feed one of them oatmeal but it splatters down their chest and on their lap.

What’s the point in trying to mimic sun kissed toothy grins like the waxy sheen of catalogs I would receive in the mail. I bought the clothes but I wanted to buy the bodies. Take over the mind like a host.