My arms have learned to keep my sides company. Their placards have drifted above their heads while I’ve learned to wait and hope for misery, because all of their soundbites that bite at the sky from megaphones held by optimists who I despise and admire are ones that I wish could fuel my own utopia, […]Read more "Ten and Two Weeks"
I don’t believe in life, so I’ve become religious. Every Sunday, bright and early, I guarantee my entry to the observation deck, where I can sit with my telescope from death and watch as my creations drown in the acclaim of which they gasped for while my heart was beating. I swear to my […]Read more "Posthumous"
I know your sister hates me. I know you’re optimistic. I know your boyfriend loves you and I know you love him too, but for a minute I knew your hands. For two seconds I knew your eyes, blue enough to show the future, and for five years I’ve known agony, from wanting to die […]Read more "Knowledge"