I’m hitting my vape while he’s being vulnerable.

Addicted to this feeling / mitochondria eat your television

I started talking like a retired showgirl in a ruined by cigarettes raspy voice and asking my mom things like ‘what good is Tom without some of Dick and Harry on the side?’

Over the next few days, through a method of trial and error, I taught myself the basics of frontier survival.

You're glowing, she said. And why would I be glowing? It can't be the gutrot wine, or last week's fast food lunches. It can't be my Quasimodo limp, I smashed my toe on a fire hydrant trying to

Run to him,
it urged. Drop to your knees

His friends document their lives incessantly. Shots of grand scenery from lookout points. Screenshots of their heart rates and macros.

When she used to swim at night her bones cut through water like perforating paper. It was always the same ritual, pants off first with a slight shimmy, arms up high overhead to get rid of the

I AM NOT TAYLOR SWIFT

Today I almost caved and drank.
My new dog has an ulcer
He needs eye drops
Created with his own blood
administered twice daily
I will be in Mexico - Dia De Los

It is a horrible thing to lose a friend, they said, and their saying this made him angry. What did they understand? They didn't understand a single thing.

My dad’s passed, my dad says. He’s driving to cremate and bury him. He tears one minute further from me. Two. His phone clatters on the dashboard. Horns and curses. He says BEEP fuck, if I could BEEP

I am at such peace but I take a beat
to pause, that’s all, to feel so full, hearted, set.

“We’re watching Bluey,” I say. “And we’re starving,”

coyotes marauding in
waves of slaughter & i’m
jealous of the way

There she was, deep in a Lexapro/cocaine induced blackout.

The truth is i wanted to owe. 

but i couldn't say that, that kind of available, that i wanted a knife at my throat demanding all my money, in the bag now;

I sit in my flat and stare at my phone and try to weigh up the risks of calling, weigh up my own exhaustion with life

   A woman's shriek broke from the dining area, something in English trailing off into Italian.
            Keekah laughed heartily, "the mafia wife is calling."

I was informed that it was going to be some kind of horror and pornography mash-up. Lisa promised a murder.

I held out my fist, “Midwest love.”

She touched her knuckles to mine.

In Materialist MEDICINE in Literature with G you’re talking about the construction of the actual institution of SICKNESS. Like, if you have to take PILLS every day are you really CURED?

I intimidate men

With my intensity

Please don’t be scared of me

I most certainly am not acting out, I inform Mom via ESP, as she silently bids me to exercise her extolled virtue of impulse control. Across from us at the dinner table looms a leering lech

Like everyone born after 1991, I hate my job.

remember when i ruined dinner by taking a bone saw to my sternum?

At first, Grandpa thought a hawk had dropped a rabbit on Dad's head.