“Filigree Paper”

How would you feel

about lying

On a glass floor

made entirely of cracks?

Would you choke,

lips in a croak,

sending shivers down your own throat?

This is why we can’t have

Nice Things as a means of

communicating with ourselves.

We break them before

we buy them.

I want you to have your

money stuffed and mounted.

SO long as it makes you


better about spending it.

Take some responsibility


it’s free.

“Only Survivor”

My reflection told me that she’d pray for me,

arms crossed and lips in a pout.

I used to hate her.

Now I just feel worn out,

a sputtering candle,

forgoing oxygen for something else.

I’m drifting now.

This is a strange ocean,

filling up the corners of my mind.

There’s nothing worse than wet insulation.

I tried do-it-yourself,

with a hairdryer and some glue.

But there’s no fixing

this affliction

made of

black feathers,

awash in a mess of blue.