it’s here

the charge

navel to navel

brushed away


I wish

it was loud

the sound

of what you know



or bored

whispers of the former



the cries

the sighs

the highs

of you in dreamsound

brooklyn, 2015



you look in awe

not of me

of that I’m not her

and you’re happy


But it’s not me

I’m just a novelty

to you

and to many


But novelties fade

awe dissipates

you’ll leave full

and I’ll be empty


Getting over her

through me

And you’ll never have

to get over me.


I’m just a novelty

brooklyn, 2016


So many almosts.

Fuck almosts.

But the pain of an almost is always better than the easy void of a not at all.

The day I choose the certainty of a not at all over the risk of an almost is the day I allow my youth to crumble.

My youth will never crumble.

I might live a life full of almosts, or maybe, one day, an almost will cease to be an almost and we’ll be there.

And it will be worth every other almost.

But fuck almosts.

brooklyn, 2015