work in progress

today i threw away food
from someone else’s table

they’d stepped away for a bit
back in another minute

walking away, I grated my teeth
to stop feeling about it

I thought maybe the book would help
but it’s the same all over again

(writing prompt)


have you ever felt
the grand performance lapsing?

like a towel being wrung out
but still soaking wet

unmoored from familiar life
floating in a different space

while others go on watching
now interested in the goings-on, now distracted by something else

(writing prompt)

popular problem

disposing of your feelings
will be a problem

that hole you’ve dug so carefully
won’t hold ‘em all

pouring in absence won’t help
too far gone now

absorbed into your blood
they will rise to your skin

and redden your face
always at the wrong fucking moment

(writing prompt)

a human life

each moment spent
every movement made

is an attempt to leave
an impression—

breath disturbing air,
touch displacing things.

in the end
only memories;

and frozen time
forever out of reach.