blank white page:
prompt that yoosh pomp thatchyoo do;
he'll stoop he'll stomp his frill till it's

shelved, docu'd
spelled out,
to the point of mellifluous flu.

his coy is beggining to cloy.
but it stirs still.

he wants the inside of his alonebones to atone
for the unimaginable thing he has to do.

hero that doesn't  
want to know
tragedy is real.

eye starly
cut thrumming
cherry ember dwindle shutter

speeded up
us lamplighted
and brief

hair unkempt but it's aright
kicks dusty as **** it's cool tho
lame faded brain blues wade through
sleeper in my eye not noticed till, like, 2
or something like that
espresso? yes pls
barista and me awkward exchange
but it was nice still
you know, like how the skips
make you feel human again?
sun on my face such a simple thing
hello day where ya been

im not really real
im jus lines in yer device
im not really there
im just pixels in yer eyes

stay in it
stay in it
stay in it
strange innit?
this game this skit
frames hang us
yer pics sentenced
stranger days flit
vulnerable green leaves blush
nice teacups chipped
texts n snaps sliiick dulcet
stains in the sheets lonely loner
strange innit?
stay in it
stay in it

the arm
of this scar
always at my elbow
dulcet flicks
of the wrist
cheekcornerlip kisses
the let that grabs

feeling slightly disturbed
about my bed sheet's low thread count
old *** shots destroy it

villain with hero stretches
of the imagination wasted
eater of the last light yum

anyway, i can't think about that
anymore. the abyss gonna abyss.

i push pixels
bent on ellipses
****** up on extended metaphors
they turn me out
my sweater dismantled
these holes got socks in 'em
enamel from the storm god's tooth worn
and he knows i know

awkward eschatological talks ensue
like: "i always knew you were faking it."
stuff like that.

threshold deniers, behold, the new day: nigh af