you are no lover of mine
they are curious so that is what i sate their hunger with
by definition, you are no lover of mine
do not refer to him as my lover, i say
he is no lover of mine

on this plane, you are no lover of mine

my dream state sings a different tune
in all these months, seldom did i dream of you
but lately, in my silent time of need
you visit me in my sleep
and you sit by my side
and i can’t remember if we exchange syllables or not
but your presence feels like a hug

(an unsent letter)

Every heartbeat feels like a countdown now.
I count them in the dark
one for your voice,
two for the day you left.
three for the time you almost turned back.

There’s no calendar anymore,
but I mark the days,
in how much ash settles on my windowsill,
in how long the silence stretches before cracking.

I remember the way you slept,
like the world could wait.
Now it does nothing but end,
as if we never slept,
and time won't wait.

I whisper your name,
just to prove my mouth still works.

Fervent poet’s quest, thorough scan for synonym close fit or match flop

every finger deliberately placed
in each fold of my brain
he knows when to squeeze
then slowly ease to let the juices drain

every square inch of skin
has felt the touch of your lip
what was once a foreign sensation
is now a drug forced out of my grip

every string you pulled
attached to a different limb
i played the role you wanted
but now the spotlight has become dim

every button you pressed
evoked a manipulated reaction
naive i was to think i had power
when it just ended in your satisfaction

i wrench each finger out

The femur of an ant sustains a wound?
No fear! Her friends come round to amputate it.
The injured ant is brave. (They don’t sedate it.)
Her tight-knit colony is super-tuned

to spot all troubles, never apathetic
to nest-mates. Every helper is a hero.
Each one of them, despite receiving zero
training, is a natural-born medic.

They diagnose, see if the wound’s infected
or sterile, and then treat accordingly
(like surgeons you or I might go to see).
Damaged or not, no member is neglected.

They work for forty minutes on her leg

There's someone I know. Someone who probably doesn't know me. I seem to know him more than he knows himself. I know everything about him and I know nothing at all. There's someone I know who has blind friends around him. Friends who laugh too loud and speak without care. Unable to understand the difference between pain and laughter. Friends who mistake attention for care, jokes for love, and noise for connection. They orbit around him but they never truly see him.

Walking Clancy, we step over
Mrs. Hitchens
curled up, sleeping soundly
on the sidewalk,
tired, I assume, from her late night —
full moon and all —
pass Mr. Wiley hurrying home
just before sunrise,
shivering under his hooded
woolen cloak.

The newspaper delivery is happening
like clockwork —
Sally’s gears must be well-oiled
today. “Good morning!” I greet
the neighbor at the end
of the road. I’ve never caught his name —
sounds Hungarian — and, between you and me,
he always seems a little bleary-eyed,

Prostitute
Instead of money
Sells the body

Prostitute
Instead of money
Buys the body

Prostitute
Instead of money
Exchanges the morality

Prostitute
Instead of morality
Kills the humanity

©

It’s not that I don’t want to die;
I shall be glad to go.
Enough of diabetes pie,
and eating sickly crow!
Enough of win and place and show.
Enough of endless woe!

Enough of suffering and vice!
I’ve said it once;
I’ll say it twice:
I shall be glad to go.

But why the hell should I be nice
when no one asked for my advice?
So grumpily I’ll go ...
although
(most probably) below.