balcony

here is
okay, usually
where apologies
take form and through
the trees peek sunsets
and later, speckled sky
while i breathe air
that doesn’t carry
the illusion of
belonging to me

here is
okay, usually
where i can tell you
i really love you,
even when
you don’t keep
love alive the
way you were
supposed to

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basement

like the aftermath of
a war from which
you’ve won your
territory by
being a
violent and
hateful man
like a
mousetrap

bedroom

old habits die
soft like
lamplight while
i read about the
beauty of
failing, not
much of a
comfort in five
hours when the
sun invades and
i have to pretend
to like
doing things

kitchen

here is where i
live to know that
the house can’t sink
into disrepair without
my body following suit

all the fruit flies and
rotten rice left in
the drain and i’m thinking
do we really
drink this much beer?
and how
does having the body of
a golden god make
you any better
of a person?

living room

chinese money plant is
taking over, sometimes
the sound of a door is
unnerving, especially
if you don’t particularly
care for the person
opening it

oh god why
did i let my
stubborn half win

we all know
not to argue with
radical republicans
online

july 29, 2015

just like that
a resurrection,
always thought it would
be harder like
you bury parts of yourself
and forget about them
as you go

it is very hard to
take anything seriously
except this lovely crystalline
silence, shattered when
the task of assigning
reason becomes
relevant

it’s as if no one believes
i’ll break, then comes
the spectacle and
the “look, she wasn’t lying”s
and the keep
trying
going
loving

like an outside dog who
barks on cue and
has to live with
your lousy brother