the scent of

“it’s 3AM.
My fingernails are long
***** clockwork
-unclipped-
oiled-jagged hands - I am,
                                     like time,
                                     spent

in a coffee shop, with a drink
you don’t like much
and, still, hours to ****.

No One Loves It
Who Isn’t
Anymore

calling
a ***** for
a life before “YOUR”



nervous nerves, us,



stomach ache
heart ache
more of the same old breaks