Monthly Archives: April 2016


that was a hard
thing to do.
like always,
this paradox
of wanting
so badly
that in the end,
i don’t want
it at all.
the loss when
it is over
is not as deep
as i used to feel.

the surprise
is your trademark –
it happens now,
or not at all –
and i always
if part of you
hopes to miss
the chance
for complexity.
like the forlorn
longing is worth more
than confused frustration.



i see your images of folly
and circles of wisdom;
i see the route ahead
blocked and porous.
“how do you sleep at night?”
he asked with an intrusive,
political smile.
“what sort of cat
asks for supper before 10am?”
“what sort of fox
opens the door like a gentleman?”
lick his throat
and watch your fingernails
down her back.
watch the black liquid
pool and flood.


the ambulance
still scares me;
scars me.
i see the footpath
with your blank face
and the blood.

i see them
shuttling past,
jostling through.
like that night,
no sirens
means more tears.

i put your photo
in the black frame;
your hat is too small,
but you smile
and i pretend
you’re not so far away.

peter pan.

they will never
be the men,
that their
fathers weren’t.

they will always
tussle and try
to hold dearly
to the “bro-hood.”

they will try
to stay afloat,
but the truth is
you cannot trust them.

dam wall.

i walked into
the roadhouse
where we stopped
that one time.

i needed
the bathroom,
and you bought
drinks and candy.

you waited while i texted him,
and you looked at me
like you knew
i would hurt you.

did you
ever tell her
the real story
for your panic and rage?

did you
ever wonder
why you changed,
and why you terrified me.


you never see me
in my natural
it’s not normal,
or boring,
or fake.

what we see
of each other
is an isolated,
raw edge;
not qualified,
or orchestrated.

force ii.

she forces herself
to laugh,
even when nothing
is funny;
because it makes
it seem
like it could be.

she forces herself
to eat,
even when everything
is tasteless;
because it makes
it seem
like it could be.

she forces herself
to let him,
even when nothing
feels right;
because it makes
it seem
like it could be.

she forces herself
to endure,
even when everything
goes numb;
because it makes
it seem
like it could be.


it’s like, this pressure
and the inevitable
disappointment –
both his and mine –
somehow worthless;
yet when i look,
she is no more
intriguing or attractive.

can’t eat, want to sleep;
can’t dance, want to die.
the mirror mocks me
and the pressure builds;
more powerful by the day.
“i like to fix things.”
please stop trying
to fix me.

pillow iii.

i woke to your face –
at some point
overnight, you
took up permanent
residency in my throat.

i woke to his face –
the cat – pushing his way
into my field of view;
but we both knew
it was you i had dreamt of.

i woke and
breathed your name;
your name followed me
to the gym,
to work and home again.

i fall on to the heavy pillow
and finally let go:
in the end, we both knew
i loved my cat,
more than i ever loved you.


one day
i will die
and it will be
the best day
of my life.

one day
i will die
and everyone
will sigh
with relief.

one day
i will die
and the clouds
will finally part
and the grey will disappear.

one day
i will die
and you can stop
worrying and
they can stop hurting.

one day
i will die
and my head
won’t ache and
my heart will be unbroken.

one day
i will die.

i can’t wait.