A MASON JAR FULL OF STONES

the point of a poem is the explanation (the clearer picture) through the fog. and now I’m lost for words – I’m sinking spinning falling shaking. falling further

THE COFFEE IS JUST WATER DRESSED IN BROWN

MRS. PARNABY’S MATH CLASS

THE FIRST POEM NOT ABOUT HER

all the punks come out in summer blinking, the shadows in there eyes – dissipate they walk on burning concrete dragging their heels breathing sweet air; finally they take the long way home out of spite for winter because they’re rebellious like that. its beautiful when they come alive

SELF PORTRAIT

I HOPE SHE TREATS YOU WELL

Lukah was brave she dazzled, even me, enough to believe in the innocent intentions and those girls, the night she wore that red sweater i watched her spin through blue in mid-transformation and spit sweet smoke on the concrete as she designed blueprints for how to be human, here she’d been chasing Khyber all along [...]

BROKEN WRIST BROKEN BEER BOTTLE

is it so wrong? i think she’s beautiful when she cries liquid seeping through her eyes, from glass to eyelash starfish and it scares me; to feel nothing; when i know i’m about to run; but i’m so uncontrollably distracted by her face in the unforgiving bathroom light.

HUNDREDS OF MILES YA YOU CRY LIKE A BABY

HOW IN THE HELL’D WE GET HERE

JACQUELINE

^  CLICK ME FOR ART

BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BOYYYY

  “Life is just what happens to you, While your busy making other plans, Beautiful, Beautiful, beautiful, Beautiful Boy, Darling, Darling, Darling Sean. “

LEFTOVERS

MONTANA

ANDROGYNY

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