How Strange to Think that My Thinking is Wrong.

I fit against you like the powder inside of light bulbs 

Like veins inside of heart pulp

Like rings underneath knuck-les.

Poems for Dead People (When I get real lonely, I summon ghosts to dance for me).

Bug
You're a piranha
Segmented like a bug
And surrounded by fauna
Chloroformed and waiting
Beneath an awning
And I just wanna
Tear you to shreds
But your teeth are sharper than a broken key
And you're not afraid to sink them into me.




OCD
Creatures will ignite
When left alone at night
Sharpening claws against a flame
Lifting bricks on their shoulders
It just isn't the same
When we're older

I envision myself being impaled
Every time I screw up
Corkscrew through
My rigid torso
And I  think 'oh I'm messed up oh'
And I drop a plate on the floor
And think 'I don't want to live anymore'

Creatures will be spastic
Drastic, snapping like elastic
Lit up and glowing so fantastic
And it's a shame it's static
I don't feel the surge the next day.

Featured on SYWZine on April 11th. 


The Viewing 


A horizontal mass
The weight of a human hand