New writing: poetry


ripe flesh

teeming, throbbing

a clammy, sticky body

offers me a line

if i come with him

to the men’s bathroom


i wake up

the girl next to me

looks angelic

with peroxide bangs

and last night’s glitter

sparkling on the pillow like fairy dust


sunday morning’s cold, judgemental light

filters in through frosted glass

and i shiver

as i leave nothing

nothing but the love-bite

on her bony chest


and then

i am running 

and the breath burns in my chest

from one too many cigarettes


and all i am

is a series of discordant notes

and we are an interrupted cadence

waiting a resolution

or to begin again