oh, mary
(& the bees guarding the tree-line)
strum your guitar—
every sound a vibration
from the lying mouth
you taught me to kiss
your son & your daughter
it meant everything
we'd sing "come on eileen"
under the garage steps
while your boy was screaming
into my arms, then fleeing
(and stinging)
i've never been good
at keeping secrets
like ours
///
oh, jared—
pluck my banjo
until each sound vibrates
from our welded tongue
you schooled me on body alchemy,
toes stretched to god
now i'm counting backward from seven
(asphyxiation)
i'd rather shipwreck with you
than sail into heaven
i confess—
i’m a queen bee
humming this tune
as if it’s not fleeting
i've never been good
at keeping
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 2:41 AM UTC
Can we trauma bond
over midnight photographs? Laugh-crying
through the dot matrix dates,
knuckle-clenching, fake family knee-slaps.
Why am I seven years old
and sketching knives? Maybe I’ll never know
—
it's the same cold that's never enough.
A tale as old as time.
When the whiskers are all plucked out,
I might as well be blind.
But every blurred memory
is shrapnel embedded in my brain.
I guess this is called learning.
Or is the black and gold lure spinning
just a distraction from the zero-sum game?
Dec 14, 2025
Dec 14, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
Stomach somersaulting as the vessel cuts through frothing waves. Seventeen-year eyes split open long enough to photograph the ocean.
It wrecks my head.
****** back to a svelte boy on the green. Crouched with parts convex—awakening new territories. Every movement rippling through memory.
Until my mere existence is ad nauseam, personified.
Let me just slap, slap, slap the face until blood is ice water. Shuffling naked feet onto the quilted altar. Bottle of wine to consummate the lie.
This unsheathed saber will be my dread eraser.
Guts back-flipping the first time I take it all in. A lubricated overture until a symphony of deliciousness rushes through my thirty-year spine.
Alas…every crest, crashes.
Every joy, disposed of.
& when night comes, I’m alone in this tide pool. Running low on oxygen, but I’ve got oodles of unsynchronized love.
The wet blade snaps it all in half, until the cobalt surface sings of doom—impending.
Enveloped into the foam.
Wrecked in the head.
Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
I’m not sure if Mercury was in retrograde or if Sega was in genesis, but you slipped an unwelcome touch into my orbit & I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.
The Proclaimers hummed in the background as the aunties shrugged…
“Some people are born with tragedy in their blood.”
The nooseman approaches & with surrender on my lips, I say: “Sew me into the creases of your hemlocked hood.”
Tiny holes cut for beady gapes.
Do. Not. Look. Away.
The moon is wailing in chorus with mothers & brothers in hidden crypts over mountains of headless children born into snake pits.
800-588-2300…EMPIRE…today is the day we set you on fire. More cobra with desire until you suffocate on centuries of soul weight.
The ground opens up & the universe obliterates.
A spare bedroom tea set gathers dust in shadow of craven lust for more & more & more. The **** of a boy & the **** of the world. Holy rage steeped to liberation. Comrades healing together with blades unfurled.
No longer will we cower & beg for a piece of what’s already ours. The serpent’s spine rotting on concrete.
All hail the death of tyranny.
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 10:11 AM UTC
But a dream-prayer clawing its way into corporeality
A curse cast to plunge the heads of every deathmaker onto the spikes as a reminder
A rebuke of the money-monger celebrities
who remain silently complicit as thousands of mothers let out
A guttural scream for the severed limbs & excavated hymns of the blessed children
A plea for justice
A song for peace
Sprouting from seed
“Bury Zionism under the rubble of my grief”
she says, as…
[the invocation eclipses into a tangible thing]
“The Nakba is over…”
Palestine is free
[the soft sun rises over Rafah]
ٱلْحَمْدُ لِلّٰهِ
“…alhamdulillah…”
From the river to the sea
May 12, 2024
May 12, 2024 at 2:14 PM UTC
The ship left the bay 10 years ago, bro. So why does this carve my arteries like a heartless severing? I dunno. I guess I’m broke in. Like a ******* hauling too many groceries. All the while this is what you’ve shown me: how shadow can be soft.
I’m sat by the river when the sunlight crests & the scalpel sneaks in.
Like an end-of-times film where the people we love simply disappear. Why am I so surprised? I don’t know. I guess I’ve spent another token. A naive kid in an arcade fantasy. But the neon gas burned out from the inside. Every vessel & every vein are collapsing, my guy.
& these poor lonely bones are forgotten—
just like the rain.
May 1, 2024
May 1, 2024 at 9:04 AM UTC
sheathe me in
vanilla heat
all musked up
& shower wet
roll me into
a fat blunt
draw in the
dank taste
c o m e
undone
take me back
ten turns around
the sun when
you were my life
i’ll kindly ask
a stranger to
ignite the spark
in my teeth
because i’m a
bergamot *****
torching this
nylon dream
you try to
rip my pith
from your
brain pits
but when you
pull back his
husk to take
in the oud . . .
the sillage of our
love is conjured
& suddenly we
are back in the
b e d r o o m
on joseph avenue
Apr 15, 2024
Apr 15, 2024 at 8:48 AM UTC
the projector whirs
a soft hum
while the film spins
into oblivion
a moment too soon
as the blade is ******
into the blooming
heart of the moon
meanwhile, it’s rock candy
hard edges with a crystalline
white-ass man proclaiming:
“the miracles of old, you know
they don’t happen anymore”
the crusty man &
a crowd of dim eyes
cry ten thousand tears
into the dying light
of hades flames
& the glamour of
gabriel’s smile
heaven & hell
intertwined like
*** on the shoreline
all dark
all light
split the bone
& make a wish
my limited sight
erased with a
silver kiss
Feb 26, 2024
Feb 26, 2024 at 9:08 AM UTC
The boy was flying high on spells woven through white lines. In the wingspan of nine hundred & twelve days, once forbidden things have RSVP’d…now they are
Knock
Knocking
***** out & draped on the couch—tarnishing every song ever sung.
“Curtis, did you remember to feed the dogs?”
His mind—crossfaded & fried. He tries to summarize with forty-three lies eclipsing the snap of his fragile spine. & then a small smile that breaks your heart for the millionth time.
“I luv you so
much
much”
He proclaims before taking ten men in a Motel 6.
& when the front door opens
& the keys hit the bowl
You're too tired for conflict
So you tuck it away
Besides…
The dogs are okay
You watch Curtis fall asleep
A good end to a sadder day
Feb 10, 2024
Feb 10, 2024 at 11:47 AM UTC
Can I get
some jas—
mine on my
tongue?
A delicate
thing to buffer
the poison—
ing.
Fill my lungs
with petals s—
oft.
Ring the doc—
tor. Call it
off.
Do not
resuscitate
The night—
shade.
Let her slum—
ber on the
eternal
gate.
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 8:32 AM UTC