She danced jejune to a jazz number called 'Too Soon.'

She was the sort of girl who cried at weddings and laughed at funerals, eating her make-up on prom night.

I'll always remember the way she stuttered when she spoke of hell, dressed in blue.

She was the mother of the non-sequitor, grandchild of convention, and she was mine.

I can't recall her face, her name, or even the time, only that sad, sad jazz as she screamed, "Too soon."

(This was recorded on a cellphone, you'll have to pardon the sound quality.)

dance jejune

You were my albatross and I couldn't stand to watch the sky. Don't tell me about the storm, let it take me by surprise.

At the bottom of the barrel, submerged in whiskey, there's a pile of baby teeth to remind you of your sanity.

captain maudlin (rough draft)

I want to dance the flamenco and sing the blues. Teach me the song that drove me from you.

I need you to watch this dance, count my crooked steps. I want you to see my life through my crooked specs.

I want you to meet my cartographer, he'll show you the truth. The spread of the map can feel so cruel when it shows six inches between me and you.

a torn reply (rough draft)

Remember: You are a sheep disguised as a wolf. Play your part well, you are an actor, are you not?

When they say those words, don't apologize. Bite your tongue until it bleeds. Turn that yelp into a snarl. Scream like a goddamn howitzer.

a pack a flock (rough draft)

This is the ghost that haunts my jaws, the metacarpal silhouette who laid down these laws.

Thou shall not bear witness to these crimes, to the colbalt and cancers that consume our lives.

These are the words of Gepetto's regret, the doll who gained voice but his bones never did set.

When I'm laid to die alone don't feel hollow, when I bury myself I'll swallow the shovel.

964 (rough draft)

those stained teeth, i should have known not to trust you when i saw those stained teeth.

'cause that sway in your hips, it's all facade. somewhere between nylon and taxicabs and ashes and god.

so bite your sleeve, tell me real slow. you've rehearsed all this, I already know.

i've only ever loved ghosts

moths on lanark (extra rough draft)

i can hope it'll be different this time.
kisses for scars, fireflies in jars

keep your words warm for me,
clocks say soon, i could be good to you

let's burn down our homes,
every single one, just to say it was fun

we don't need anyone.
let my possessions rot, alias: have not

Letters From Invalids