Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2020 · 226
red wine
September Nov 2020
i still look at the recipes you wrote about me.
you told me that baking requires trust—
maybe that's why my macarons burnt.

you were the most sobering experience.
Nov 2020 · 126
September Nov 2020
pretty white ******* a date
with a lonely man
whose father's funeral
only had three guests:
him, his brother, his uncle.

i can't even pretend
to know how to feel.
***, money.
Nov 2020 · 88
September Nov 2020
Rough love, soft love.
Choke me a bit, are you okay with that?
I guess it's what I'm used to.

Warm skin, heavy blankets.
I pray we don't end up like our parents.
passion is fleeting
Dec 2019 · 385
September Dec 2019
the memory of you is a warm comfort
a sunday morning community chapel
preaching your name so loudly
you'd think i was possessed
the sun sneaks through my windows
i'm alone in bed
ni co ti ne or ga sm mm mm mm
Sep 2019 · 249
September Sep 2019
love is patient,
love is kind.

thom yorke keeps telling me that true love waits
so why do i feel that waiting has made me weak.
(like i'm letting you get away with something)

i am not patient,
nor kind.
i am envious, and boastful.
i keep a record of how wrong i feel.
Jul 2019 · 323
September Jul 2019
i only wish i could esc the thought of you
Jul 2019 · 243
September Jul 2019
clean for almost two years now
i stay up reading
a timeline of myself
high on ecstasy
Jul 2019 · 175
soft, warm anger
September Jul 2019
we got along so well but
but this is the final thing we will agree on:

even i am surprised at how
how softly i can let you go
Jul 2019 · 526
bug bites
September Jul 2019
i will be alone now
walking naked from the bush
drunk stumble down quadra st

the *** may have been brief
but the memory of ******* will stay forever
in my wet dreams
bug bites
September Apr 2018
God's firmament: only
a child's planetarium projector—
If only I could project my
vows in a sphere of light
with even a handful of batteries, all the
eyes in the world
could see how ******* thin
my gossamer guilt is.

My conscience is silky smooth
like Venus-razored legs.
Apr 2018 · 290
Alphabet Soup
September Apr 2018
U n I r love letters—
O, tucked in bottles and
cast out @ c.
You and I are love letters—
Oh, tucked in bottles and
cast out at sea.

U and I are letters of love.
Apr 2018 · 268
who will foot the gas bill
September Apr 2018
i drove a long way for affection
but i didn't mind a meander
into side streets of self exploration

companionship not compatability

and the simple ******* twists i turned
the gentle buses rode

i tire of you
Mar 2018 · 504
September Mar 2018
this ship merits no singing of sad songs
cleaned my decks, the salt water is gone.
September Mar 2018
tired because of the things he does,
always remembering where i was.

these fickle things nostalgia brings,
icicle fingers touching ribs—stings.
Jan 2018 · 501
Father John
September Jan 2018
i pray to your temples
with every slighted
touch of forehead

"i am the scientist sitting on the pew
holding a textbook bible.
i don't question you."

i have built a
rib cage chapel
out of love and letters.
wave wave.
Jan 2018 · 249
lucky bar
September Jan 2018
i consume both love
and liquor in the dark of
Monday's Lucky Bar.
Jan 2018 · 195
September Jan 2018
holy ****
holy ****

am i an *******
just an *******

preach love beyond belief
*** and no text, purely grief

say to hold the one you love
hot neck, cold shoulder, lack thereof.
i am lost at c
Jan 2018 · 240
September Jan 2018
i am my own least
favorite flavor. i keep
trying to dissolve
myself under my
Jan 2018 · 239
every day and every night
September Jan 2018
close my eyes.

today, the thesaurus revealed
himself to me as
my enemy. i
do not want any words
to describe this. keep a
perfect sonnet of all
feelings felt until now.
keep everything
under the radical
complex. prescribe me a
boundary condition.

open my eyes.
when you describe something you make it simple

i hope you wake up to this. i hope i can wake up to you one day.
Jan 2018 · 191
mind on fire
September Jan 2018
our transaction history:
pleasure between keyboard strokes,
stolen moments, momentary wave.

the absence of heat and the heat of absence:
hand between thighs, love between sheets,
every day is the first day of my life.
Jan 2018 · 316
prohibition, broken elbow
September Jan 2018
my ***** heart is hungover
overdue for a kickstart
startled and *******
all for you,
all for you.
Dec 2017 · 384
September Dec 2017
love a bit
love a bit

you look so good,
look so good,

the eyes relay to the mind
Dec 2017 · 227
several ties to orlando
September Dec 2017
paining, pining
i am refusing to branch
onto your spokes i am vining
touch me soft—***** your hand
Dec 2017 · 239
only you will know
September Dec 2017
was that really me?

i almost regret not introducing you to my friends
memories fall so separate
i squint to see overlap

so many minutes of my life in your apartment
i must not have lived them
if i cannot again relive them

was it really me on spotted counter top
was it really me against white brick
touch my palm to induction stove
hoping to burn but only touching magnetism

i almost regret letting it into my head
December 08th, 2017. 4:52am
Nov 2017 · 1.8k
September Nov 2017
Sorry I can't
hear you any
I think we're

breaking up.

I think we're

breaking down
each other.
draft from fall 2013
September Nov 2017

White plastic hanger, previously molten molecules, bleach additions and thermodynamic repercussions. I use the word thermodynamic because "chemical" has a falsely truther connotation to it. It hangs the shirt I choose to wear for tomorrow.
A hanger is a hanger is a grocery bag.

There were actions behind every reason—but not reason behind every action.
And you don't talk about it, but you think about it—because you don't want the whole world to realize that it's loneliness hidden in that shirt. You were only trying to tell yourself that maybe buttons on the other side was for the better.

I forgot which words to capitalize in a title so I took capitol on them all.

There was a world once, out there, somewhere, that cared for more than seven seconds. They hung up the power button, asked the tide to come closer, and walked until their hair was wet.

Kept going until water kissed water within lungs.
Thoughts, words, sentences, combinations of letters. 2016.
Nov 2017 · 204
woke up sober
September Nov 2017
i open doors—and walk through walls,
open thoughts—and forget them all.

talk to a bottle—kiss midnight

i do not think i feel alright
Is this where I tend to
Oct 2017 · 296
September Oct 2017
what much affection
believe you earned-her.
once loved to learn-her.
help-her, hurt-her,
oh baby, choke-her.
thats eno-ugh of that
Oct 2017 · 256
Eyes Turned Upwards
September Oct 2017
Pop-pop, rattle-bang
Red being the color of the carpet
In hasty prayers, upwards is forgotten
North, East, Smith & Wesson
Jul 2017 · 312
cask. casket.
September Jul 2017
three circles will linger
in my grave when i die
one ring on my finger
two under my eyes
Jul 2017 · 305
September Jul 2017
oh hips, i'd gather all them,
(your spine i deserve).
i'd much rather call them
a coastline than a curve.
ur body is my pacific northw0nderland
Jul 2017 · 362
summation notation
September Jul 2017
i myself
an amalgamate
of little words
long pauses
you are without brackets
we multiply, divide
but never add
eXponential gr0wth
September Jul 2017
canaries, doves, pigeons
in your image they made religions

pigeons, canaries, doves
both in seventeen and in love

doves, pigeons, canaries
scholars devoted to you, libraries.
sixty-six birds on my windowsill
September Jun 2017
kissing pinot grigio
holding glass to cheek
refilling bottle, drop by drop
each milligram worth its weight in salt water

whatever omniscient is awake and
watching me join the 2am club
for a fifth night in a row
i hope you know i would love to watch you too

we learn such lessons from the loneliness
and remember nothing in the morning

this pillow talk is lost in translation from night to day
each time i am here it is just like the first
May 2017 · 506
There is a Hill in Texas
September May 2017
A thousand wind turbines stand like men
on a hill in Texas. Each with a red eye which
blinks in the night. A thousand men stand
like wind turbines on a hill in Texas. Each with
two blue eyes, shut the entire night, the entire
day. There is a chapel on the hill.
The amount of anti-black, anti-gay, anti-abortion billboards I saw on my road trip was ******* insane.

My second to last poem "Sunburn" was made the daily poem of May 25, 2017. Thank you.
May 2017 · 1.2k
Koala and Eucalyptus
September May 2017
Oh, whisky and your hips:
Hard as stone on my fingertips
I would put my lips to them both.
May 2017 · 6.3k
September May 2017
Separate beds and shades
Of reds. Intimacy is
A ****** handprint.
A haiku for every lover.
September Apr 2017
my friends do not believe me
that love can, yes, truly, begin with a black eye.
Apr 2017 · 783
Savor the Flavor
September Apr 2017
I sprinkle the salt of sadness over the steak of my life
because salt brings out the flavor
salt brings out the flavor
i am at fault.
kissing pinot grigio,
i am at fault.
Apr 2017 · 318
Upstairs Cabaret
September Apr 2017
I drunkenly wingman my dreams to my realities.
But you don't look like the clubbing type
Mar 2017 · 870
September Mar 2017
german cologne still lingers
on the buttons of my collar.
funny, i don't remember
wearing my shirt when we embraced.

i didn't wash you for
five days. i didn't wash
you for five days.
living in a stale memory of terrible eurotrance.
September Mar 2017
"everything you are
is a product of all your interactions.
you mirror your friends
or you mirror yourself."

heaven may not be a place on earth
and you may not be oppenheimer,
but now you are become death:
destroyer of worlds around you.
Mar 2017 · 776
talent. (negative space)
September Mar 2017
did i pull away or did you?
what i wouldn't do
for one more taste
of that wet embrace.

we find a balance
in the absence.

we find a balance
in the absence.
it's a talent, it's a talent.
Mar 2017 · 276
September Mar 2017
Everything but the present is a fond memory.
to be determined
Feb 2017 · 638
September Feb 2017
cannot trust a thought.
i know not if i am action, reaction, overreaction.
i reside somewhere between emotion and environment
all you are is a response to everything around you.
take it all in, endothermic reaction.
Feb 2017 · 271
September Feb 2017
clothes got soaked in rain.
dont know why i expected
them to smell like salt.
hail, sleet, and snow.
Feb 2017 · 543
a slow wood burn
September Feb 2017
what was i to do
we had some human-sized bumps
and she smelled like campfire
you're as easy to me as an extra syllable
Feb 2017 · 316
hold you under my tongue
September Feb 2017
i keep a secret
on the inside of my bit-
ten, ****** cheek. ow.
i remember it fondly
Feb 2017 · 688
plan B
September Feb 2017
only write haikus
for lovers. this one is for
me. i ****** myself.
Feb 2017 · 280
new years eve's later tales
September Feb 2017
my resolution,
a false dichotomy: brown
eyes, or purple walls.
Next page