Never — not ever! — do we not have
NO MELON, NO LEMON
At the Palindrome Emporium!

WAS IT A CAR OR A CAT I SAW?
WAS IT ELIOT’S TOILET I SAW?
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Prices are NEVER ODD, OR EVEN
At the Palindrome Emporium!

EVIL I DID DWELL,
LEWD DID I LIVE
At the Palindrome Emporium!

YO, BANANA BOY
Come save a bunch!
And say hello to
BOB, HANNAH, OTTO, and ANNA!
Your friends at the Palindrome Emporium!

i want to peel your skin back
and reveal your deepest sweetness.
to look at your veins
and memorize their paths.
maybe then i’d understand
why you are so rough on the outside.
it takes a lot of work,
digging your fingernails into the flesh,
pulling and pulling until you are bare.
but it is all worth it;
to visit your center,
to break past what conceals you,
and take you apart
slice by slice.

There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh

There’s this girl
She’s been around
But I never saw her
She was there
I was blind

There’s this girl
She’s softer
She doesn’t cut
me to pieces
I melt

There’s this girl
She is kind
She always is
Kind to me
I don’t know why

There’s this girl
She is beautiful  
Not like a thunderstorm
Like a summer meadow
I would lay in that meadow
All day

There’s this girl
We’re not even dating but
There’s this girl

Love is a waltz
Two dance
Don’t dance alone

every night i softly cry
eat an apple, hope to die
you've left me here, so red and flushed
im waiting for you, but i feel rushed
the bleeding heart slips from my grasp
i run to catch it in a dash
but only you can break its fall
and as it hits, I slowly crawl
to you.
adieu.
goodbye,
sweet lie.

I am consumed
Fed, bulging
Bulbous
Splitting at the seams
Engorged with You
Satiated by your tongue
Glutted, packed
I am full

And then
I said,
"All my poetry
is not
fictional"
putting all
these short
little bursts
of inspiration
in a different
perspective

catching a moment
in a jar

and its gone
before you see it

before you put the lid on
you are lost to a daydream.