I'll leave my window open
            so in darkness-deep
            maybe, just maybe
            you'll hear me weep.

she makes my coffee
SoRight
she makes me think
SoRight
she makes me
SoRight
that two words become
one exclamation,
that is precisely
SoRight

7:52 am

Once it was unknown
Only through the boredom of days
Did a mind conceive of a framework
For the patterns of light and darkness
That came and went in the sky above
And how the abstraction of seconds
Growing into hours and days
Could be gathered into numerical traps
To give a glimpse into the lives that have passed
Into death, the only relief from
The oppression of this history -
The oppression of time.

It is strange how you were drowning and he was the one who needed space

It is strange how he cut you open and you apologised for having bled

It is strange how he broke you and held a grudge against you for falling apart

It is strange how you took 99 steps and he stumbled on one

It is strange how he never had the time to read the poems you left in his mail

It is strange how you could have had the world but you kept settling for less.

Yes, it is strange
how love makes you the person you never thought you would become.

i burned hot this weekend:
one unblinking flame
in a toxic green sea.

thousands of mouths
tossing out the word "women"
as if it's the worst insult
their forked tongues can spit.

when i cut up their faces
with the rings on my fists
they'll learn "hit like a girl"
isn't an insult after all.