I wonder what your ego will enjoy the most? 

Before you ask –

you broke my heart –

Before you ask – I’m happy, now

True, it took 13 months

to find my tongue, again –

True – I didn’t try too hard and

true –

It was never going to make it past

next season,

this I knew,

even as I tried you on off the bargain rack –

True – before you speak –

I remind you I’m beyond and much more above

your pronoun –

Remember you’ve done your work –

the destroyer, finished,

can catch his breath

while I play repair.

Before you interrupt –

return to that scene

and preserve her fragile mouth

from your echo chamber menthol throat

and pull her towards another

who does not say she lies

whenever she dare say that she loves.


grim reaper

my dusty sigh could empty footlockers-

and burn dishwashers-

with grime of poison mouth

with hope that hinged

on Child’s Lie-


-your currency was rage

and all the world a debt-

to be underneath you was to yearn

for atonement-


the only thing i learned that year

is all i choose to remember-

dead skin molts away,

the clock breaks on 3, and

the truth-

a wooden raft on salt and shame-


love is freedom-

never ask-

if you must,

if you have to,

if you beg-

drag your tongue out

prick your toes and swallow sweat-

they never can-

know today, that to ask,

they never will

nov 18, 2017

bitter chill always makes me think of you, and us,

the warmest thing I ever held,

the only heat I’d touched with joy,

when they ask, “had she known love?”-

not like yours

and not since-

and I rest myself

by the ash

remembering what it was once


to burn


and yet you control me

or is it that I control

the space between us

allowing room for no surprises,

just history

that hasn’t happened yet

and yet I hardly know myself

it’s a sensation, strange, of disbelief

when I want

something so specifically

clear a path for no allowances-

it is feeling real, these momentary

bursts of who I can be

for a few hours-

why so hard?

she shouted

no surprise, really

i am sorry for all that i’ve been

and now my business

is promoting my original thought

for someone else’s sales

my words are owned by a person

i’ve never met

much like everyone else

i am 23 with


it all begins from within

and here i am

too obsessed with what i’m living without

the external is made by me, not makes me

how do i access that bit?

i wanted to do, so i did,

then i stopped

too aware of the glass

i was crushing in my unsigned checks

i was comfortably shape shifting


but it stops

and forward procession must be marked

by an intentional call toward detachment

but that’s not to say

i can’t love you


just that the only one

with the power to drive me crazy

should be whatever storm

is already inside of me

everything else are inventions

and i create, with you, a reality

a shared reality

that i’ve been mistaking for my own


gather the pieces of me that

the people who have seen my body

still hold onto

take back the part of me they believe they still have

take these pieces and not place them back

in me

but create something

outside of me

something that belongs to no one

that exists in time and not space

a separate self

a non bodied self

now untouchable, more whole than the fragments

that previous owners believed were assets

to their portfolio


though I loved you

your territorialism and chest puffing

and slut shaming and gaslit desire to keep me




said more about the percentage of my body

over which you believed you were owner

than of the respect

you claimed to have for my freedom-

men with skin like yours

want to own everything,



take back the piece of me

even from you

from the fingers before you, to the arms after you

that still calculate

my flesh

and my hollow space

that they were privileged enough (sometimes strong enough)

to touch

as a deposit into their self worth and sociopathic ideas

of what makes them “man”


though I loved you

I could not see you were holding onto

the final piece that needed to be collected

so I could deny

future ownership

and allow

this new wave of mine of escaping spirit

to live within me

without territory, without registry



by anyone who believes

they still own a share

teach, ease

teach my heart

ease my soul

lean away from madness

and sit in the cool


silent shame

teach my mind

ease my flesh

build a gravel road


and dig, not to bury,

but to grow

to want and to be wanted in return

is a tall order

if you fake all the wanting

touch my brow

ease my tongue

corner myself at the

meeting points of

here and endless anywhere

maybe I’ll finally heal

when every last page of this book

has been filled

with the ink of perpetuating fear