You disappeared into the night
and I woke up to an empty tent.
We'd gone camping, and you'd just up and left.

Dude, there was hardly any food,
and I guess my noisy sobbing had attracted a raccoon.
He approached me somewhat reluctantly
but soon, we began to spoon.

His little claws clung to my shirt,
which hurt, and he smelled sad.
He started to take this thing we had
a little bit too far;
I prayed suddenly for the rumbling
of Tom's oncoming car.

As the raccoon began to **** my back,
I closed my eyes and missed my dad.

my boyfriend is a horde of rats,
and no, i'm not just lonely.
this is no delusion, Pat,
i feed him cheez-its
and he loves me.

i give him fancy clothes to wear;
he sleeps below the kitchen sink.
i give him little baths in there
when he begins to stink.

got an issue?
kiss my ***.
love is love,
and that is that.

starved for your tepid touch,
i don't speak, and don't ask much.

i can't give you what he can;
i can’t even be a man,

but i've never known such class
as your tapping on my glass.

simply, i like you a lot;
it's too bad i've got fin rot.

find a dream demon in the sizzle of your fried egg
in the fruit of your loops
in the balance
of your breakfast,
and swallow him
down with orange juice.

find him in your last pistachio
crack him open,
find him waiting,
find him
kind of hot

he looks real ripped,
red skin and
red tinted sunglasses.
“aw ****,
those gains,”
you wanted to say,
but were afraid.

wake up and find
that u lowkey miss him

silk & saffron cylinders basking in the still light
thoughtlessly as a blue jay bathes in his bird bath
as a brave baby bites for his mother's bare breast
as i watch you from a house across, you stretch awake
your rib cage glimpses the light for a moment and
dissolves, disappears.

i knew i was unseeable first when i was five
watching my mother undress for him and then him and then him
and then again when i was fourteen when my eyes
were white as snow against the unlit room
but still my sister didn't-couldn't see me staring.

i'm a ghost, woman,
and I need to **** something
to make me live again

fear of failure is my mistress, who lives
only to control me. she lives solely
in my thoughts, in the corners of my
dreams, and wears a mole under her
watchful, painted eye. i love her, but
she’s no good for me, and anyway, she
makes love to every lonely man she meets.

you said on facebook you hate cops
so i put a pig's head in your bed.
the deputy said, before i killed him dead:
"i have a wife,
i have a wife!"
with a sigh,
i grinned, replied,
a glimmer in
impassive eyes:
"so will i,"
and then i took the *******'s life;
swung my axe until he died.

anyway,
you wanna get married?
nah?