
Broken blistered feet running across melting pavement Leaning toward an escape only a hair width away. Make your teeth a guillotine for their mocking fingers Paint your unfortunate face crimson with their shock. Tie the broken shell of the world with a victim’s sinew Clench shattered glass to indulge your mind to remember what’s been…

Here’s the secret: you can’t, they can smell you like rotten eggs, like spoiled milk, the stuff you don’t want coming from the things that shouldn’t be there, and you see, that’s where the problem lies, in your want of absence, because it means that you cannot take away to hide your vulnerabilities, your shiny…

after Noah Baldino Halved, the body might resemble a geode, crystalline glisten after dirt. That is, of course, until it rots. A purple stone brought home to dry gray on the windowsill. On the train home I wonder, if I open myself, would yellow, white, all shades blue and red surprise me? What hides in…

I wish I knew just how we got here but I had long ago lost hope. I’d been seeing the political arena play out in everyday street encounters. Those status-symbol oversized, overpriced gas-guzzling monstrocities of trucks sought to control both vehicular and ideological traffic by engaging in their own ticker tape parades, honking and screaming…

my dad always wanted to be his dad but he wasn’t supposed to be his dad, who rummaged through scrap piles, exposing himself to unknown toxins that would spread throughout his body killing him halfway through his fifties my dad works nights as a glorified McAfee program for the Army my dad, though, was never…

this body unrecognizable hands feel the familiar itch of crabgrass 3 layers deep the lungs remember sediment so meticulous woven into each gust and breath I cannot seem to recognize the face bred for beauty with hair butchered by familial fabric shears yet through the warped inconsistent tangible alteration these eyes remain the same craving…

The pit of stomach downwardness was a daily ritual. Sense and sense alone were all, spare the few grilled chicken wraps and smoothies. It was the one-month anniversary of silence—my doing. Not cast aside, but a noiseless retreat, staring down a threshold of pain that could no longer be smiled through, shopped through, hungover through.…