The things you say linger in my head a bit longer than they should.
I remind myself that those echoes should be taken with a grain,
and cynicism will keep my resolve alive.
I tell you I don't believe you when you say you've missed me,
while I'm stifling the excitement inside.
You're pleading when you ask if I am leaving you
and I put your mind to ease, even though all you can do is sleep.
You say you want me to stay but your offerings are modest-
lazy yet earnest, you kiss my forehead and doze off again.
You approach everything in life about the same-
except those of which don't seem to work the way you want.
Should I disappear for a while?
I worry I might be replaced.
I'm not quite good at all those games-
but I'll watch you play, you'll tell me the stories so maybe I'll stay.
I'll curl up on your sofabed and be your cat for the day.
And when I do leave, I'll wonder if you'll hear me pleading too,
You might think if there isn't distance I couldn't miss you.
That's not true.
That's not true.
At least I think- but take it with a grain and see me again.

i caught myself
before i caught a bad case of you
staining my sheets and making me believe
you meant when you said
i was your favorite person right now.
such a loud and pointless thought,
drenched in impermanence
lacking the resonance
that a favorite should hold
so i place you on mute,
to dull the sting of not being responded to.
i look towards the weekend,
where i'll probably miss the way you look at me,
but not the way my wallet drains a little
and the way we stumble drunkenly up my stairs
you- perfectly complacent,
i- nervous as hell that the nosy neighbors
might loosen lips to my crazy family.
i'll probably miss the way you feel within,
but not the way you're comatose in sin.
apathy is so last year,
but i won't expect you to remember
that i was your favorite right now.
but you were my favorite never.

Not that I miss you,
but I liked sleeping alone
until I met you.

Waiting for the painkillers to kick in
I remember writhing in my sheets like it were the ocean
in my head pulling me every which way,
while I reached for pillows and bottled water
and threw myself on to my dusty carpeting.
The heat kept me **** and sticky with vick's,
until they stopped cranking it and
I pulled on a shirt and took a **** 6 times last night.
I did not want to turn on the lights,
and decided the spiders crawling on the walls
were probably too repulsed with my runny nose
to bother climbing my legs anyway.
I needed the dark- my eyes sat in my head
like two full trash cans, that shut and had enough
from the dreams I procured in sickness and nyquil.

I must have made a pact
with my eyes during the little rest I get
that forever tired is the new black
and I must wing it
every single night I stay up
until I'm sick of the sweetness
from the bulleit
seeping into my skin
I think of them and what's next
and never send that text.
I close my eyes and let it be
and hope tomorrow will let me sleep.

started to look to satan
after waiting for a lantern
he seems to know the path
to colt 45's and perique tobacco
ripped stockings and poison apple.
slipped wine in my bourbon
to mimic classy, safe and happy.
listened to nothing all night
through my laptop speaker.
palermo droning while I felt her
soft and slick, melting and spilling
film me, but fill her first, lucy