i am not a human, but i don't know what i am. it looms, it lays, 2023
we fed the cult members perfume-laced granola bars. it didn't poison them, but made them prettier on the insides, 2022
all i think about is kissing, 2023
wake the other half, 2023
you ask them, “when does it end?” they reply, “it never does.” the wind is empty, and so am i, 2023
feel me up, 2023
sunsets are for babies, and i ain't no baby, 2024
it rains even when it's sunny, 2023
can i be on good terms with myself? 2023
make friends to lie to, 2023
i caught my pillow inhaling. my palm rushed to the case like killing a bug. i felt the exhale slap back. maybe it's full of my dreams or secrets or nothing at all. but itls living. my dearest companion, 2022
erupt at your fullest, 2023
the great balancing act, 2024
words with friends, but make it somber, 2023
what do you see? i don't want to know, 2023
free cell, 2023
i've been thinking about what-ifs lately, 2023
your name is like a pinball bumping around in my head. are you playing a game too? i should have become a neurosurgeon. do they even look at brains? do they speak to them? i'm a link in your chain, but it's easier to hang around your neck than onto your last words, 2022
set your focus, 2022
the sorcerer said that when the travelers were allowed to reach their hands inside the giving bowl, their hands came out stained red as punishment for desiring more than they needed, 2023
Your eyes plague me over the rim of your glass. it tickles a bit. like a rash forming under the skin. invasive. i swear i saw your eyes quiver. Maybe I just wanted them to. but when you narrow in on me, i feel sick, the good kind of sick. you ask to take me home, but home is too far away, 2022
gone too soon, 2023
we don't get along, which is kind of hot, 2023
the other side of the wall, 2023
my legs are blades of grass browning at the edges, 2023