door in our place i never open out of fear and too much want touch the knob — i am shocked

sounds like a party in there but where is my invitation? missing out doesn’t scare me

sometimes, it’s open a crack scents from the kitchen waft my favorite dish on the menu

i give up. nothing better to do splayed on gray wool, rubbing nothing matches their rhythm

the guests tire, it swings open streamers and confetti spilling must be my job to clean ’em up

craving total transformation, identity a disposed wrapper. becoming a vessel for want, glass poured into, overfilled.

you haven’t been here lately. something in our combining always begins this reaction: photochemical excited state

learning how to spark again — days ago: gel, pumps, bulbs, rattling pill bottles and nerves, black gloves, gold foil, silicone.

it’s warmed up enough already. don’t ask or guess — just know. take a part you claim as yours, shape it to your pleasure. use.

time stutters; the gears grind forward under prying pressure. repairing hidden mechanisms, counting every beat yourself.

disappearing deconstruction: ripped apart by heat and light, shredded into a thousand tiny pieces of steel. shrapnel blast.

there is stillness in oblivion, peace made in the darkness. clenched fists, soaked linen. i swear. i won’t move. i can’t.