Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...
I cram bits of the loneliness in letters—I...
stamp them, get dressed in a nice outfit, and make...
a crime is a true government official
a crime is a true government identity...
There are no impediments
in the nature of true minds...
I always carried my death, living.
My memories all were...
She used it tonight, my new name,
pulling me aside and brightly exclaiming...
As strange as this February night is—it’s ripe...
the moon is tucked away behind our longing. There...
pictures,
the cliché of memories...
you empty out
the loose tea...
She drowns dreams in a soapy bathtub
Breathe the suds in deep...
To be or not to be,
the throat of an hourglass...
What if we won’t wake
for we are fugitives of...