ClenchGood movements andwarm lightfrom a second storywindow.Oil from the fingerstilted headstaring contestswith the walls-words that break upeasily, calmly andwithout argument orpulling out the muscle fibersin your wrists,worse than handcuffsand innocencein a concrete room.Now listen to this:I want you calm andenraptured-a timid spidertouches the edge ofa sugary cola dropfrom the lips parting for light.I want you without predation.I want you with forgivenessand angerless,the mountains have gone dryand sleepy fromwatching over the hills.And coldso very cold.I want you brokenand untouched by man.Without faith. Undirectedrage, a passion forthe romantic wars.The warmth comes closebut is stopped at the edge of the skin.With every breath my life is given offas moisture and heat and words and air,you cannot take this from me.And whispers, and everything.I want you to tremblewhen the amber shattersand black bugs spill out with syrup on theirglass wings.I
Words For WordsI know for a factthat when I'm no longer sickthe words will stop coming.I will stop becomingclose to a writer.But you don't want that,and neither do I.
Holding Onto The Sharp SideI sent three poemsjust like you askedand after a long pause,you said they were beautifuland I said nothing.If I had a knifeI would cut holes in the paper,If I had a gunI would string it up by the cornersand pull triggers with my eyes closed.bang bang bangclick click clickAnd if I had a matchI would douse myself in gasolinethen touch the pages,and you.I never loved youand you told me the same,we held handskissed hardnot in love, together.You told meterrible stories.Oh, and another thing:at 44.145447 N, 120.583402 Wyou showed me what humansare blessed to hold.(or maybe just deserved)
Dot"Art is subjective." He looks; blinks.
Untitled (2)I would never fall in lovewith another poetAll that fragilityarrogancedestructionBinary starssupernovaKnife fightswith pieces of glass
FlutterRespect the silenceand become fluent inthe language oflid and lash ofbeat and-beat and-beat and breathof blood and sweat.Speak of my home encasedin flesh and bone;solemn in the flowof your breathing. Please,I beg you.
A Liquid StateIt's raininghard,just outsidethe window,pleadingto get inas the peopleon theroads aresoakingrunningcoveringtheir heads;protectingthe waterin their bodiesfrom the waterin the rain.
HephaestusWe had this neighborwhen I was a boy,he was a bityounger than I was,his fatherrented the housenext door.He would come over,step over the knee-highfence thatseparated us.He would promise toshow us howto makefireworks.Daylight from ouryoung hands.He had us gatherall the petalsthat had fallenfrom our flowers.Dark violetsand blues.And once we hadpicked up allthe petals, hecupped his handsand threw themin the air.Wide-eyed andin wonder.I was disappointed,I expected him topull a lighter outand for somemysterious oilsin the flowers tocatch fire;to explode.I wantedreal magic.He threw them upagain, and I stilldidn't understand.
GaspThere was nolife indanger, butshe pressed herlips to hisand breathedinto himall thesame.
The holeI was walking, and then I
Loneliness At 4:03am Tick.Can't. Tock. Tick. Sleep. Tock.
My Social LifeFamiliar faces,everywhere.Nobody I know.
Breaking EvenBroke her heart.Broke his nose.
Egggolden package in a lidless jar
VoidCan't think.Silence screams too loud.
ImpatientIf you talk to anyone who waits at red lights or cares about fashion or owns a gun, they'll know a thing or twoabout all of us; all of humanity. We are all flowers, we are all little universes, we are all the underdog future.And maybe this is completely true, and maybe some girl pierced her ear in the 8th grade bathroom, and maybe youhave sand in your shoes from that visit to the beach last week. What does it matter, is this an absolute?We are all pieces of God, we are all forgetting about Heaven, we are all waiting politely for death to break inthrough the bathroom window. You can ask the stains on the sidewalk, the birds who refuse to build nests, thefaded black hair on the barbershop floor. They will tell you that this all does matter, and if you care about yourchildren, it's an absolute, too. Sometimes I run through traffic lights, wear half-unbuttoned flannel and scoffat the glory of firearms, but you can talk to me whenever you grab my shoulder and take a moment to stop s
WildYou could never be strangers againin that void of charged spacebetween the eyes and the air.And the other people, who areless than faces in the crowd.Maybe it was a true dream ofdark times, always walking,you are thief protected by glossthat they could breakif only they knew how.The lion at the zoo couldjump the fence, the wolvescould dig beneath the glass.Safety is a mutual ignorance,and it is something to be remindedthrough wilds of the woods,that she has fangsand so do you.
WhitewashI am buying some teain a glass bottleon a college campus.Nobody is here after7pm, not even themonsters.Me,them-our collectiveloneliness.Everyone wants toget in their carsand find home.There islots of waiting.An old friend passes meon the stairs.We make jokesabout ourdisappointment.Hell is a quiet place.The silver token bottle capclings,then bends.
His Big BreakAssigned a non-speaking role.I'm speechless.
Promises"Thank you.""For what?""Not leaving."
The Heterophobic"I'm not gay," said his boyfriend.
The end of a relationship and beginning of anotherHate left me. Love found me.
~cerealnovels, lonelinessLoneliness...individual landscape we all share.
LostBought a map:got lost anyway.
Forget tsunamis.Man: The world's first Natural Disaster.
Devastation“Ma’am, we did everything we could...”
Devastation Hits HomeShe searched through the ash, crying.
Writing AdviceThe key to building suspense is