you are less than ecstatic about the timeline
so i defensively define the difference
between lies and selective truths
(like you don’t already know)

my napkin is sprawled across my lap,
eagerly awaiting the floor
and my forgetfulness
(i was not bred for fine dining)

your napkin is folded atop your lap
and i can’t help but envy it as you
summon ghosts of former loves
(you are a dog with a bone)

i chew quietly on tender beef,
feel the blood spill under
the pressure of my


march 28, 2014

my room is a jungle

overspent emotions grow dull so silence is

you fall asleep so i remove your glasses

flaunting spectrums on the dresser, the remorse flowers you
bought me

and i feel tender
and i feel panic
and i feel love


these are the lonely years –
the ones in which i leave my
lover for myself, only to find
there isn’t much to me


i want to walk alone
in the snow and
remember the time the
world stood still
in psychadelic silence

i want to walk alone
in the snow and
sketch the past with a
stick in the
pure snowy ground