an invasion of
loaded questions...
It’s not just the vodka
stirring in my gut...
Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...
you empty out
the loose tea...
She drowns dreams in a soapy bathtub
Breathe the suds in deep...
SCENE ONE:
You swear that the bus you’re on is swallowed by...
I sleep well, occasionally
Doing my best to prevent it...
Please don’t gaze upon me with pitiful eyes,
loneliness is parallel to love—there are no...
I, too, tire of the yearning, blue-violet flames...
beneath the skin, waiting for either your kerosene...
It is endless
their aptitude of flaming to burst and blaze out...
A swan cannot be alone.
A lonely swan is only a question mark...
Amongst stretched palms, you slip me a dagger
unsheathed, blade touching skin and offer me a...