With it I feel


Without it

I feel Something

It is I as I is it

And can be many things

A pebble in the shoe

A headache after dark

A dismal brackish thing

That I wonder if it feels

Something without me?

It’s probably for the best

To leave it alone.

daydream eyes

For every bad breath morning

For every kitty litter night

The only thing I’d change

was the fabric softener,

which still lingers

like her kiss

in my daydream eyes

Where the message is pure

as fresh cut grass

The smell of sage and

Himalayan Shilajit

Rib Cage

Don’t think you’re working hard enough?

Then wait till you can see your rib cage

Wait till instead of loathing

You begin to welcome sleep

Wait till your veal turns to porterhouse

Till your pennies turn to dollars

Wait till going home is lonelier than not

Till you don’t feel whole until you’re broken

Broken from the inside out so that no one can see

No one but


In the morning

In the mirror

In the gray light

Admiring your rib cage

Knowing you’ve worked hard for this

Hard enough to die—

But not quite

My Dear, Rumination

After a while

you’ll come to realize

that it’s these

needle thin problems, these

paper thin thoughts, these

failed salutations, and

strangers fiction bought

that keep us alive

and somewhere we ought

not dare go alone,

what a gift to feel lost—

my dear, rumination

what a privilege I’ve been granted

these feelings I have fought.

This Boys Life

If it sounds like suicide

It’s probably suicide

If it doesn’t, then

It’s probably suicide

You see. I’ve got to toy with it

I’ve got to play with it

Let it tangle me in knots until

I’ve grown tired of its tricks, until

I’ve acquired a finer taste

For those brief honest moments

Just before sleep, letting him go

Pillow breathing in peace, with it all

And how it had to end, in order for

This boys life—to begin…