(2014)
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
you’ve been invited, stupid asshol… to remember things differently, wh… it means to be human, even. dumb shit, you’ll always let someone el… handle it, whatever always happens
love does not beat on doors, beg at tables. it is always
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
I love how you talk Down to everyone In your poems Which, unlike fiction Are not covered
webwomb’s not the maker of me. came into it as falling is done. down, only always
shall we turn down the covers, crawl inside? find there a place that’s been waiting for us, a vortex of sorts
the very idea that i could be
the conquering child turns 50, gets the gag out its mouth, says here i am. let’s play now
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
finally, without knowing it was coming, he got to die. it was great. like a birthday party clown, he was equally the center
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