Sep 14

My final thought at night

Sep 14

My Third Thought at Night

Sep 14

My Second Thought at Night

Sep 14

My First Thought at Night

Aug 27

Dew

Aug 27

the thing


The thing
in between the 
hanging dresses
that bleeds 
into the corner
rotting head
a biting line against
the nightlight
letting you
search the darkness
before finding your eyes
and you jerk into
a stupor
watching as 
the thing 
claws the closet doorknob
with burning
fingers
of charcoal smoke
stark against the 
wallpaper
floral print parting
where the thing
speads it claws
pulling its mass from
the hazy 
hanging
dresses
puncturing
the floorboards
as it lurches on
cricket legs
joints bending
shining coat 
stretching
maw twitching
as it rips the edge of your
bedspread
threads popping 
like little fabric mouths
frozen mid scream
your finger grow
numb where 
they bunch the 
blanket 
the thing 
makes you think
of that book you read

Aug 26

Something almost here

The leaves have voices now
chafing in the 
crisp breath of fall
til their ashes run like blood
on the golden floor
people tell me to 
be quiet
and not remind
the leaves
or they may 
wither to their
autumn dresses 
overnight
and twirl from their
barstools
but they keep me awake
gasping in the wind
like hooked fish
strings growing loud
and fading
in the purple shadows
rattling with the 
ferocity of an inhale
and breathing back into the 
night
the rigor of an engine
and the sly
to make fools believe
rain is falling
but no
simply the leaves
the crisping
thrashing 
gasping leaves
chafing in time 
with the cicadas

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