My Poetry

The Alien in the Alley

The Alien in the Alley   She is hairy and Abstract and lives on the walls with wings dipped in black.   She’s not a cliché fly. She is a jaw-dropping butterfly.   A goddamn mighty butterfly. With vivid, godly wings that are lengthy like sophisticated words. She,   a spellbinding creature, surrounded by bile… Continue reading The Alien in the Alley

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My Poetry

Do Not Touch.

She can wear what she wants. She can walk down the street naked, and you still would not have the right to violate her. If someone leaves the door to their house open, does that give you the right to walk in? To caress their couches, examine their personal pictures on the wall, sleep in… Continue reading Do Not Touch.

Short Stories

Different Drugs.

He rolled over away from her, the thick and damp lint-invaded plaid fleece clinging to his naked, red, sweaty rolls. He liked to light a cigarette after their sessions to push the musty and personal smell of body parts out of the room. After the first anxious drag of the hot mesmerizing tobacco, his stomach… Continue reading Different Drugs.

My Poetry, Short Stories

Death and Decaying.

First, she lost the waves of strawberry blonde that ended at her waist. Then she lost her mouthwatering skin, a bright and throbbing red like a bed of ripe and ready strawberries in a strawberry field. She used to have a tasty, round figure that everyone would drool over, but now she’s dry, with off-black… Continue reading Death and Decaying.