What a fool I was to do this.
64 cents to my name.
A vast offering,
You string me along a long and dark ever bounding set of trees.
Standard roses.
A man who lodged in the room next door, with a cold tongue.
I can still taste you.
SMACK.
Burning green.
Tiny swallowed patterns on my knees.
A woman asked me and I told her I would be lonely; looking onto the street.
He’s dressed in blue,
Wash (white clothes)


He had a winsome smile that you couldn’t see in a photograph.
It mimicked Michelangelo.
Brimming with confidence, then there was a heavy swell; caused by tidal surges.
Rolling waves that did not break.
Sangfroid.
How cold and calculated he was.


"I don’t drink, but I do karaoke" I’m told by a woman with a cigarette between her lips. I push myself into an old elevator. Below me; speakeasy. I want to make love to you in a room with a door that takes two hands to shut. Hardwood floors. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say; it hurts us?


I tried to drown them.
They would have never existed; moments between.
It used to be easier.