I used to be a writer

Piano fingers, are lobster claws. A lazy cell evolves. in reverse. Paintbrushes collecting dust slump in tin cups brown strips of rust Camera lenses giving me the eye wondering why I won’t pick up the pen and paper. or at least try. what is a feeling. internal hallucination of a sensation None of it is…

something like water

silver threads silk spooling my fingers. Body like bread crumbling in my arms. Something like water. Carrying  current voice of an ocean fluid, yet full. The glass on my lips warm and cold. the fumes of my breath the gold on my neck the hail outside of my window. It is you. Imagine opening your…

Invisible ink

Bounce on this lap like you in a bouncy house. Back it up on me I wanna watch you dance. Can I pull on the pony, just a little? Bend you over, write a check, split you down the middle? 9mm bulging through my pants Feel your pretty nails up on it. I don’t need…