You’d never tell
how capable of grieving...

On most days before I sleep,
I cautiously slip under the duvet and...

I'm sorry that I'm deceitful,
that I look just fine, except I'm not...

The airport is a morgue.
I can identify this body: He’s a lover...

On quieter days, I catch
myself laying on...

Don't make promises you
can't keep, because...

I reach back.
My hair stuck...

Who needs
street lamps anyway...

34th day:
Flowers had color again. The sky...

There it is.
The perfect slightly-see-through...

Pack a bag of essentials,
a bottle of water, a whistle...

Warning: This isn't a poem,
just a really lengthy piece of word vomit...