Evening docks
like a desolate ship,
indigo and monolithic,

its umbral sails
swelling above
the distant hips of
a titanic continent.

Sleep tastes like a mossy anchor;
it lurches, shifts, and slips into gear—
the sound of stars grinding on stars.

I sail across an ocean of teeth.

I acquiesce. I drown

in the velvet
whirlpool of
your absence.

Doesn't my mind and soul
Deserve all the attention
That you give to my
Body?

There is a class
Across the sea
That's small in size
With students, three

The students' names
And average grades
Are A, B, C
The roll-book states

Of the trio
A's the one
Who aces tests
And frowns on fun

The apple of
His teacher's eye
A has nary
Cause to cry

Kid C exults
In being bad
He signs his name
"Rebellious Lad"

His afternoons
He's proud to mention
He spends with teacher
In detention

A classic class
Don't you agree?
What's that you say?
Oh, pardon me!

There's also B!
I quite forgot
An oversight-
Thanks a lot!

for the record, yeah.
i’m as flat as a board
and sometimes i get breast envy

when i feel super girly
my best friend has two pillows
that i love to rest my head on

i know it’s not universal with everyone,
but i love ‘em, squeeze ‘em, slap ‘em,
feel how soft they are, kiss them

maybe i love my best friend too much but
i feel like this poem is going in a direction
i would rather us to not go in