Date: July 2022

we sit in a dark room as clear cords and red strings spiral from your mother’s nostrils.     she drowns in the hospital bed,  tongue dripping with saline and body smothered with naloxone.    we watch as she stains the worn linoleum with  frozen earth and scalding blood as God laughs.    th

swiss-army knife fingers smear blood berry jam preserves stick to cement even road worms wiggle away from burst skin spread   glimpse a scavenger sniff paws peeling up remnants and flick gravel off with claws scrape sound of stone and nail tongue poked out to taste then dropped back down to decay l

This heart is a bloody mass of flesh in my chest that swells, sinks, skips beats and breaks. It cannot lead me.   It is too busy keeping this body alive to watch where I am going, too busy being shocked into action every second or so, busy trying to stay in rhythm. It is […]


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