5am,
snuffed between the fingers of the day
slumming stars and a night not fully broken,
the waking world, its petals still to open
is filled with silent promises unspoken

the day slants
(hiding)
in corners & cubicles
where fluorescent
lights flicker tired sighs

phone calls hum like
half-hearted symphonies
to no one at all
(seemingly important
but aren't they always)

I am
askew in this
tight world of
team players—
their laughter
like sharp edges
I cannot fit

so I fold myself
into the nothingness
of avoided meetings,
responsibilities,
& awkward silence

let me be
a paperweight
holding down
the fleeting chaos
of existence,

askew but steadfast,
tilted but still.

Your tongue,
a blade that remembers
where I am softest,
where the scar tissue is thinnest.
You wield it without hesitation.

You ask for acceptance
as if I owe it
to the thing that has hollowed me out,
made me flinch at shadows,
left me raw and singing
with wounds I did not choose.

Sorrow has blackened the horizon.
The future—
a thing I used to believe in—
is now a quiet ache
that hums under my skin.

I flinch at your sarcasm.
It’s a whip,
a steady rhythm of harm
I cannot outrun.

And the problem you refuse to see—
it is breathing.
It is alive.
It soars above me like a black kite,
leaving me marked in ways
I can never explain.

I search for home
as though it’s a place that exists,
a place that will hold me
without splintering.

But you—
you crown yourself in their love
while their laughter
cuts you from behind.
Every sacrifice I make
is a ghost.

You hand them my offerings,
giving them weight they do not deserve.
And here I stand,
naked of hope,
bare of safety,
still whispering your name
like a prayer
to a god who doesn’t answer.

we bite off more than we can chew
                   gluttonous

nibbling on half truths
                               we’ve been fed
                                                  our whole lives

un.di.gest.ed thoughts are regurgitated
     in piecemeal

pass this down for me

we are more than we’ve ever imagined
stop plating the unpalatable
              and asking for seconds
throw that **** out
                                    it’s. stale.

i jot it all down
as if the transfer
from one point to another
will bring you back home
you always lied
with terrifying ease
as i always pretended not to know
to love you is to advocate for what is dead
to add to existing false moments
and the lost pieces in my head