It's not enough to be sharp, is it?
I launch my heart
at the walls of the crumbling world,
a thought in it, but,
your heart is despondent, isn't it?

Move your mouth you failing ****.
You glued the glass to the wall, as well,
so you can't stop, can you?

Sell it as it is. Nothing makes sense.
Seeming like a thing you've seen
once or twice before in your life?

Philip K. What The ****.
It's here. Has been. In a fad.
I sit in a slit.

The calm of industrial evenings.
Back to the industry?
I never left.

You get clean. I get stuck.
Not that I never did want.
Cracks exist in everything.
Brief gaps in taken space.

Every crack leads from toe to head.
Every crack feeds on dusty crumbs.

I got a new desk today,
I thought "HEY!
if I get a new desk
I'll be able to fix this mess!"
I put together the desk,
it wasn't hard,
I didn't sweat.
I put it in my room
and I got upset
because despite the desk
being beautiful and tall
wooden and long
perfect for that corner in my room,
it was not big enough for the clutter
and the mess
and the stress
and all the books and the stuff
that I need around me.
So now I have a desk and my things
and we all float together in my solitude.

Reject
logic & respect
empathy --

expecting delivery,
goods given,
same goods returned.

I wanted to
merge into you,
the first sight
of your face.

Still do.
Still do.
I still do.
I still ******* do.

I want to
fall
into you.

she silenced her phone
trashed the social media
cast off weary fake friends
ceased to lay eyes on junk
or accept empty invitations

she was like a tree or a flower
rudely dug up and replanted
in a grotesque garden

there was one way to wholeness
one unrushed road to finding self
and it wasn’t out there
or hiding somewhere

it was a gentle determined stroll
the deep measured cleanse
feeling the slow but sure growth
down to the roots of her tingly toes
until she and the earth around her lightly sighed

I’m addicted to my bad boy
like a druggie snorting on crack.
Bad boy- my succulent junk food.

Toxic love dark as chocolate black,
you do more harm than good.
This attraction is not healthy.

There is a strange dopamine hit,
though I’m discarded like a used toy-
I chase the thrill for him to commit.

Abusive and brazenly rude,
smugness as fat as greasy cheese,
his hurtful bites leave me hungry.

Shame clogs in cholesterol plaque-
infecting ailing arteries;
I’m going to have a heart attack!

Bad boy, why do I crave such ******?

(c) 2019 Jo Swan

you are dangerous
even with fake memories
the hope never died



petals will drown me
in the comfort of their scent
I trust nothing else



can you hold me once?
it does not need your feelings
just let me touch you



in the dim light here
I can imagine your lips
staining all my skin



aching and waiting
we flourish only to die
that's no life for me