i killed a gnat on my shirt today
and now he sits there dead
next to a hole
which is starting to look
more and more
like his twin brother.
both black spots reminding me
of the ***** dishes and laundry
and the difference between dogs
in the city and country.

Everything can be poetic if you look at it that way

The way you smile and good off at yourself while brushing your teeth

The way the laundry does cartwheels in the machine

The way your curly hair falls right behind your ears

The way you smirk whilst trying not to laugh

The way you stifle a giggle at your crazy life

There is extravagance in the most normal of things we barely glance over

sunshine seeps through blue dresses
and laughing echoes via open windows
with rays on my shoulders
and caresses on my nose.

splashes of rainwater glisten in the sun
with camisoles and lingerie above.
fulfilling stances of smiles and buoyancy
as i sway in my mary janes.

my snow-white blouse feels loose.
i inhale with ease
as the humidity offers a veil
over my bare shoulders.

the bitter moon has inched over
the prospect; the blue skies
have twisted and crooked to black.
dust lynches off disgusting, damp garments.

the moon hits the violet vests,
and cries are blocked by closed doors.
there is artificial light on my skeleton
and slaps printed across my face.

this deceitful place.
with obscure deceptions on every corner.
this circle of life really is bittersweet.
day is kind and night is not.

when the gangsters come out.
when mommy and daddy aren’t so ecstatic.
when brooklyn is authentic.
and your snow-white blouse feels tight.

fortunate dreams, folded within security and affluence
a laundry pile of capital
you’ve tried and succeeded
prosperity, wealth, Constitutional rights in abundance
American dreams lay thriving, slithering between your fingers like sludge
nice sludge though
snow crystals rest upon the sludge, decorating it for the holidays

barren attempts to take hold of opportunities, you didn’t really try
efforts lay unmade, like the bed he shared with you
penniless
inferior in the corner of the kitchen
last night’s events crawling across the tile towards you
running over stains and chips, creating unshaped perfect squares
a city on fire; flames stumbling in the breezes

this is a room you haven't slept in yet,

and this skin has grown since i last saw you-
replaced itself

and the distant, but warm
blood that you tasted on my cheek the last time you kissed it
has since made its way through each vein and left-
replaced itself

and the smell of my shoulder,
gently rested beneath your chin
i've since changed my laundry detergent

and i've stitched the holes in my jacket
your finger used to trace each one
but i replaced each fray with new thread-
and i sleep with new dreams clouding my head

and my framed portrait of you fell to the floor
i replaced the glass, the image

but i still find you in laundry detergent and broken glass,
sleepless nights, skin cells mixed with blood

i tried
but god ******
i cannot replace you

One night in the middle of summer,
I was given my favorite dream.
And in it, I was her;
the girl you'd think about when you sing.
I woke up, glazed in melancholy-
in sparkle juice sheen.
And I touched your bracelet to my lip,
the one I stole right before we kissed,
and when our mouths swished
dreamy washing machine.
Cleaned our inner depths of psyche,
anointed with love poison-
unable keep the thoughts of longing, dry,
strong desires are the knife
that cuts the girl from your cloth
the one you think about when you sing,
the one I think you like.
So shredded and clean I bound my lips to you,
I didn't stop until dreams came to life.