Helllo God of digital things.

I have a picture of my *****
and a list of people who have touched me there.

Don't let me go

O Capitan of the starship Viscera.

You have yet to see me
devolve into a pink salamander!

You have yet to see me
fall to my knees and beg for faith.

Stars, poetica.

The ghost that haunts my crush's pool

brings me great pain.

[Insert username here]

Monologue, making her entrance- marking her exit from youth.

Like, can you even f(x), lifted that high in the air?

I see one stilt, one horn of the fabled unicorn father elevating you into a primal oasis of body language and low strung sweatpants.  

Monologue, whistling witch -

Bless her heart... She tries so hard to be the fantasy, the twitching eye masterpiece.

Monologue of depressed whimsy.

The woman is in her studio trying on wigs. She has a prisoner of the heart. He is a mighty lizard with humanoid role models. On any given day you can find him in the bedroom with a virtual reality headset, casting demons from his shadow.

1/14/2017

one in the morning, champagne drunk
KNL INW and I
steered uneasily down the sidewalks
of an uppereast side street,

the January wind whipping us
into a frenzy
smoking rolled cigarettes
a homeless man stops us:

asks for food
she gives him a cigarette
lights it for him
looking back, this was not good

a drunk bougie boy out of many
says "it's alright sweetheart!" as he passes us on the sidewalk. we complain of exhaustion

it is quiet.
i will move here next year
i pause.
I think, stop

and we laugh
and wonder if it's really happening
and i think my poetry is uninspired
and frankly, ugly

my state does not settle in
i almost step on a puddle
i say where am i? the answer:
realization enough to strike me sober