mouth feels rotting sanguinous


in the mouse facility my callous is growing
so worried


I found a piece of the apple
poem


at rush hour I taste the pears of your eyes


an open eye
that just sent ribbons of pain into me


how people get so divorced telling strangers about the infidelity


was thinking of calling Dan and when I first got sober in Harrisburg I used to call him Hot Dan when talking to my sponsor about him


the embryos which were overfixed and now are not staining


the dead silent craft of that 3-layer rich chocolate cheesecake


my occasion will be dessert and I will describe it in taxonomic detail


peanut butter lips kiss the rim of the glass leaving blown glass remarks


a kiss of Sundays


in the closet self-loathing fearful not even an actor art student with a details mind


the drunk gay years lasting


my best friends throwing their cut-up lives at me as if I had any intention


even today it teases my brain