I guess I'll write until the words
fall off this page.
Until the white noise in
this living room sounds
like friends.
Until this uneasy feeling in
my gut satiates like a
favorite meal.

I'll write until the world
makes sense again.
Or at least until this
cup of coffee needs refilling.

Don’t you want to know how salt tastes
and hollow sounds?
How the alchemy of sweat
and soot erases mistakes?
Or the ways conceit and heartache
can be served together at once
and still be palatable?

This mouth is quicksand.
Teeth nothing but distraction
from destruction.

I can hold the words steady
on my tongue
but everyone knows the end
to these kind of matters.

The words will sink deep and
rot in my gut.
Do you have something to feel Samantha?
Good Luck. Good Luck. Good Luck.

Fingers walk those piano keys
cementing sentiment to song.

You couldn’t keep her like
those old keys can;
Wrapped in melody
you sing a graveyard.

Reptile skin, thick and watertight.
Nothing penetrates.
But you are warm.
Weak and porous.
and everything sinks in like
gasoline penetrating wood.

words like hot ash
and the smell of scorched skin

leave the room
leave the wound
You like to win.

Do you feel the air still?
The silence that kisses the
room before the roof blows.
‘duck and cover’
‘duck and cover’
the instructions you recite as the alarm
bells sound.