I dream in silhouettes of invisible creatures
they rip into my stomach and feed off my hunger
sometimes they eat for hours, sometimes
they watch me sleep, breathing in my dark

you expect too much of me, you ask too much questions

I imagine you underwater drinking in the silence
I drink with you, but it burns my throat, you laugh
indigo bubbles drift out of your sun-glazed eyes
I ask you to drown me, you refuse, so I drown myself

hold this to me, my anguish; one day it’ll consume you.


Solar Flare

my head lays burning at your feet
emptied of all consequence. ash
stains the carpet, clinging to the
skin of dead insects. before I disintegrate
I memorise your face. my body stands,
headless, counting the hours. there
is a monster attached to my heart,
long haired and delicate he breathes
when I breathe. I could almost taste
him in my dreams, my perpetual lover.
rip him out of my chest so I can love you
the way you deserve. inject me with disaster
and sear me onto your groin. this tapping,
this waiting, it kills me. when it hurts, it burns
like a solar flare piercing through my burning
head that lays still and silent at your feet.


Coffee Monologue

preoccupations rot warm styrofoam around my fingers
dissolving into wrinkles and burns; the sunlight twists
around my oblivion, straddling the abdomen of my cares

I tap lipstick smudged edges to life, the table levitates up
towards the fans on the ceiling, testing gravity. memory hits,
his keys and words deflate into the belt of softened replies

my mobile lays daydreaming, the dial tone shreds my eardrums
I check my pulse, I check my airways, I check my pockets for a
stray pill. I stand to leave, dissolving into the checkered floor.