[dis] [com] b [ob] u l a t i o n s

dont be so hard on yourself

they say but then again

it’s not a game worth playing

when you’re stumped and clueless

finding yourself acting shamelessly

or in fact—not shameless enough

two in row… becomes three and more

binge fits—find out more at the end 

of this guessing game and the answer is

as per usual—more simply—more

but what’s it worth if he didn’t even get to say goodbye

and he just stopped laughing and croaked

if he really was on the toilet—so he told—

stumped by his own stool the pressure got to him

he wanted him to feel humiliated

so he did and so he let him beg

beg big brother for forgiveness for his kindness

for new meaning for new life for the end to new beginnings

for clean feet and shiny shoes and a reason to wear a suit

for the cash to place another bet

but this bet’s got no end to it and guess what

there’s no more guessing

because we’re too short on answers

at this end of the stick. 

remember wondering

if you eat an apple seed

whether you might later sprout

an apple tree in your tummy?

all things aside

having all things still

considered for brutal

recapitulation—never lets the best

escape them—in honor of remembrances

difficult to keep because that ineffable moment

is always escaping our gasp

plunging out of thin waters

reaching blinding towards that ineffable thing

the mundane and discreet slips

beneath our feet—but it gets stickier 

with every step and we stop to check

the soles of our shoes—those rubber platform things

scraping us above the concrete

so that we don’t have to know the feeling

of rubble against fleshy skin

going out

for a run

take a piss

have a cig

drink champagne


lying down

on the couch

missed your call

waiving bye

don’t say hi

call your bluff

call it quits

over you

two months done gone by

taking model pics

posing strangely in front of

this object-thing—because you know

that a kilogram is just a thing—soon to be 

reprinted on glossy sheets like how your

fingerprints leaves its matte-on-black grease

couldn’t even get close enough to see his pupil size increase

if they even did, but the smirk twitched

knowingly and you know what it got you

good—it made your bones itch, knowingly

you still played dumb anyway, made him think

you didnt pick up-it’s called playing hard

it’s all hard to get out of the guessing

because the signs are all pointing one way

or another like the wind it’s always moving somewhere

the earth’s always rotating—all this h20’s done gone

gotten soaked up by the atmosphere while the focus of our gaze

forever escapes our seeing our whims ever-changing

though our bloods still flowing

for now anyways


haven’t you heard?

there’s no such thing

as a second quarter life crisis.

the worst thing you can do

is act on your fears simply by

failing to act at all

because we ain’t stupid

and we can see right through it

but there’s always that

nagging feeling that reminds 

us that we’re the ones who are

in the way. 

shaker quaker

feel the rumble of time

escaping quickly now

though not yet muted by 

the absent whistling of the wind

which rattles the cupboards 

off its hinges (ever so)slightly. There was

a soft glow behind her head

before they invented the fluorescent light

bulb—bulbous globe-shaped

beacons of light that you could cup

in your hand till it glowed a rich deep

red from within your palms’s center. Embossed within

were those creases, seeming to state

with more clarity and with definitive 

totality your future’s sorry fate.