| I went on a date today. My first actual date. What do I do? I attempt introductions when one of my friends comes over. And, naturally, I forget his name.
Things going well doesn't work. Twenty bucks says it's me. |
| |
| lies, lies, lies.
my tongue unties
and releases
curses and fies. back when i was younger, I'd lie about everything online. everything. i don't want to tell the lies i told. they were obscene. i don't feel regret, i don't feel shame. i simply know how fucking stupid i've been. it'd be funny if it never came back to haunt me. although, haunt, in this case, is not a very good word for describing the possibility. |
| |
| industrial, you produce
chalk-white linen, stained
with lead, or something
like it, from your pocket.
unfolding it with thinly-veiled
audacity,
it screeches like the trains
that lumber on above. like a kiss it brushes past,
leaving hard, leaving fast,
and tells me that I don't deserve
this shit.
and like the kiss,
it leaves a taste --
morosely rustic --
and still behind your veil,
you begin to withdraw your lips
and as you flee,
you turn to me, saying again,
"you don't deserve this shit." i don't deserve this shit.
|
| |
| hey celestial grace,
why not shine down
on this contorted visage? |
| |
| smoke wafts gently
down and cups your face --
we both listen
to the beat,
we both stare at our feet.
neither of us will say
it out loud, or whisper it.
you made me invisible.
i could not let it happen
again, not ever again.
so even if they hate
me, they will remember,
they will see
me. it's so easy to control people. so fucking easy. |
| |
