They make tiny, miniature trees
So they can fit in a home
Along with seedless grapes
So that you can swallow them whole
If I pushed hard enough
Would you think that my heart
Could shrink
To the size of a seed
If I Imaged continuously
My body smaller
More soluble than water
Just as sleek
That maybe I could be just the right size
Just the right texture
I can become the flavor
That you crave like midnight parch
Will I ever be
That hint of tasteless
That can satisfy
Your dehydration?
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 4:39 PM UTC
Thoughts are clouded
A dry tongue, a mildewed throat
A whisper, a guttering tone
The heat of stone, of concrete throne
You sit there with mist
With clenched squint
What don’t you want to see?
Does the heat sting?
Let the calluses embrace,
The skin of you feet
Let the concrete feel,
All the metallic bearings
Smoke, ******* breathing, exhaling
Whole, then dim, small, then glaring
The roads feel cold
Bristling wind, blowing empty air
The fumes, lighter
The spark, darker
You can’t breath
Can you?
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 4:30 PM UTC
My heart feels moldable
My skull, compact with thoughts
My throat, filled with sadness, but a lively beat With life, breath, a feeling
Proof I'm alive
My mouth goes dry with questions of where I will go
My mind fluent with silence
My mothers words ring through my ears
Life is dull she says
When will the ringing stop, must | listen to the tune.
It is no melody, no poem, but a statement filled with,
Resentment, of the dreams unfulfilled My heart feels solid, a clay, unthawed.
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 2:27 AM UTC
There is an art to it, I promise
You're not lonely, no hell is upon us
My friend asked me, on a dreary day
"What is it like to not believe in god?"
"It's like going on a plane."
"Oh yeah, how it's so loud everywhere, how lonely it is with all the noise surrounding you."
"Not exactly, it's more like when you sit down in your seat, with all the warm bodies wrapping around you, the air is warm and humid, it's not lonely, but a subtle reminder that you are one in a million."
There is no heavenly being enveloping this world
It is just you, in the waters and land, who emerged
Why ever rot or feel condemned in a world where you were born?
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 10:59 AM UTC
Trails and trails of steps lead behind you
Weeped and wept is the person in front of you
Contempt and scorned is the moment within you
Waves and waves of sand left traced of you
Why not look up, find that there's more
Than what surrounds you
See the stars, aren't they so bright?
Come on, let us descend into the night.
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 1:11 AM UTC
July, July, where have you gone
Down in the crept of the cold dawn
Do you crave the sweetness of summer?
Why not stay another night
July, oh July, you’ve slipped away
From these hands of mine
My fingers shiver from your cold embrace
Why not come on over, warm my face
July, I’ve told you twice, and I’ll tell you thrice
Come on over, stay another night
My bed is wide and warm like your summer
While the lamp shimmers, laying dimmer
When will you listen July?
I crave your days and your skies
I will never see that dandelion again
I’m not ready to let go of springs descent
Goodbye July, but before you go
I just want to let you know
I love you so, like a bid on winters frost
I wouldn’t offer a cent
If I had your hand again
M.R.
Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 7:00 PM UTC
I don’t have much to yield
From this fragile harvest of my life
Yet a sickly flame survives the frost
With sparkling stars shining right
From the left, see my eyes
Darting to and fro
Look hard and short
Under the layers of the bite
Don’t look past what you did
The stab bleeds stars
No universe can hold
For you I offer a heartfelt tribute
By letting the cold delude
From the flames seeping from my chest
Warm what can be comforted
Freeze what should be left contempt
Here I am waiting in field silken cotton
Soft polyester fabric and wool
As the canvas is left empty
The paint forgotten soon dried in time
I will sit at this empty counter
With tea and coffee waiting at the gate
I will ask you
Would you like sugar or cream?
Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 12:04 PM UTC
Dilute me;
add a hint of bitterness,
a bit of preservatives,
a splash of artificial flavor.
Only then might I be enough,
comprehensible,
consumable,
for you to devour whole.
Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 3:40 PM UTC
Deep in the flesh of the orange
sits the white pith, which no one craves
Unlike the pith, the skin can be candied
Unlike the pith, the flesh can be juiced
What of the pith, with no yearning
When will it bloom
For no seed it can become
No water will make it fertile
No soul will give it splendor
Neither you nor I can give it love
Why won't we be the pith
alone with no opportunity
Learn to be unloved
Learn to live with no yearning.
Jan 14
Jan 14, 2026 at 3:38 PM UTC
I search for fingerprints staining clear glass
Hair a shade beyond my own
I discover truths in these ribs of mine
And lies etched in my hands
Sometimes it’s fairly difficult to say what
You want to say
When the papers and proof
Are beneath your ribs
Things nail nor a good soul
Could dig out.
Sometimes you find that only certain people can dig it out
Not the ones unbuttoning your first layers
Not the filthy who want to be clean
It is especially not the boy who said he loved you
Months after you already put his name in your journal
In the room, you held his hand
On the roads, you ran to see him
In the kitchen, where you made cookies
In all the places you know, there is a stain of a boy
who stayed not long enough to make the tattoo
So on my skin, in my home, there is this fading ink
that has yet to bloom new skin.
He dug out my truths, and words he treated like scripture, like law
Yet he spends his days now in the absence of good fortune
Sin has forged in his lungs
I will never think of finding another heart with a pulse so
Or a hand with fingertips that squeeze my cuticles
Nor will I discover groans deep in my throat so faithful to the sob
Instead of sitting atop a pale dessert
observing the tumbleweed trot
I’ll meet all of the in-between lovers
Over a setting sun, on the beach
with their cars parked in the lot
While sipping grains of sand flavored lemon
With notes of grief and gaping hole
I’ll ask them, was leaving easy?
A soul-guarding question, no artist can clone
I’m so sorry, I’m still trying to dig these truths out of my ribs
Although they’re buried too deeply
That there is a rusting residue in my chest
I have opened the ribs of my heart much too long
to these lovers, grief and reverence combined
That these bones have rusted from the air
So much so that my lungs feel confined
Yet I still cannot breathe.
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 7:50 PM UTC