I haven't a clue what to write
and my stomach could go for a bite
so here I will sit
poor verses I've writ
...
I've lived
for one-thousand years
in this time zone
under a bridge.
...
Sometimes
I think
I just need to swallow my pride.
...
I find it strange
that my song
the one you should remember me by
is the same song
...
I sit
in the house where the game was played
with a glass of wine in my left hand
and a pack of cigarettes in my sweatshirt.
...
If I live
for eight-hundred years
I'll still hate myself
just like I do today.
...
From the afternoon sun a stranger stirred.
A homeless son.
Stray John emerged from beyond the city gate.
His rucksack empty,
...
Her methodical tongue touched the tip.
Their toes tickled by the warm waves.
Love was plausible,
but utterly unfathomable
...
She opened her phone
and sent a mass message.
'Spermies feel funny
...