A bag over my head, plastic. I was waiting, smothering my life away. The longer the wait greater the pleasure, closer to death more meaning, it must have. My lungs are red ants swarming so close to, I forget what? Drenched in sweat, you pierce the bag. My first breath,...
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Thank God for the scrap paper The unused, the left over, the last piece of popcorn at the end covered in butter, the sweetest moment wanting to be taken, placed, made to have a purpose. The teeming text waiting to be flipped, exposed, a negative untouched, begging for light, contrast...
Birth is liquid mercury. Just a spark and potential to be an animal. Puberty is a an upgrade, new abilities, Strength. The power to scrap enemies A new gun and new look. Death is when Dinobot just never returns (except when he’s cloned, of course) Deathbed speeches are always heroic...
In church, I used to wish there would be a flood So, I could swim from the balcony to the bowl-shaped chandelier. At least, I think it was a bowl. Between R.L. Stine and sleeping, I could only see the lip. But if the canals flooded, then I could reach...
I: Church Lied: Hell is an ’87 Suburban merged with Arizona summer. Brimstone air, tar for seats. My own personal demon, my sister, Fangs with braces, an inhuman scream The guide said is was over a mile deep. Carved over millions of years by one nagging river. I wonder about...
There is a beetle bible. There has to be. God’s favored children: eight million unique kinds. Big, little, black, half-red, blue, green neon iridescent, flying, flightless, waste removal, pollination, aphid farming, noise making. Let them have complete authority over all the earth. Trillions of tiny souls crawling, digging, sailing, skimming...
He post-it notes a poem up in his cubicle supposedly written by Anonymous. He’s trying to be subtle about the way he staples his thoughts to the manager’s forehead. His contempt dripping like the water cooler. Uniqueness is encouraged Just keep it to yourself. His cubicle is filled with antique...
There are 56 teeth on the zipper of her jeans. I know, I counted while we listened to music that reminded us of dim lighting and bathrooms. The sun oozed in, a blanket of light, igniting the socks I left on. We became fluent in ash our words just basic...
Given enough time, all dreams are possible But thats the problem, isn’t it? There’s not enough time. Life is fleeting, A wink Gone. Use your time, make your dreams happen You never regret what you did, Only what you’ve neglected Never enough moments To keep trying A chance Take.
Always, I tread lightly because I know there is a chance I am one step from my doom. That I’ll merge with everything I know. My fears are crazy, I grant you. I always hope that I am wrong. Just, I can’t seem to kill the thought. I constantly look...