The drawer where I kept my dingy addictions
Pretending it never happened isn’t going as well as expected.
One time I hooked up with the manager of a vape store, and now he gives me free stuff, and it’s kind of embarrassing.
Black as fresh-made coffee.
She smiled and I felt gutted.
You have to listen to “Dead Friend” by Against Me! when you read this poem. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.
I see violets blooming between her teeth.
What are you building, sickman?
“I can’t compare her to pancakes. That sounds vaguely sexual. I know… I’ll change ‘pancakes’ to ‘crepes.’ That makes it deep.”
Rain: translucent, crystallized youth on sticky, tender lips.