anger leaked out of me

melted into a puddle at my feet

fatigue settled into my soles

into the marrow of my bones


too tired…

…to do anything…

…about anything…

so just let it be.



you are still worthwhile

when his arms won’t hold you

you are still loved

when his hands won’t touch you

you are not defined by his warmth

two poems


 ‚Äčlondon you got me thinkin

i already know ya

but you don't know me

and i don't know you

even though i see your people on the green

what does it really mean... anything?

 for all your parks

and all your roses

what do you have to show

but for your masses of gray

transporting, mowing through the jungle

concrete in the main



There are no words coming

No words to fill that hole

They are gone like a skeleton

Crashing to the floor

 A bone crawls

See it in the darkness

It is the littlest of bones

A finger perhaps

 It crawls across the floor, skriitch-skraatch


Trying to make purchase on the wood

Grasping for others, an answer, a word

 Skriiitch, it comes to a stop with one hollow tap

And then silence engulfs it, no words surround it

No words ever come, gone with the bones

A skeleton that just can't take form