In this half of my brain

I am
emotionally responsible
in fact and
circumstance and

though there is also some sobering and permeating
disgust which creeps into my thoughts and eradicates my curiosity

I am content
I have not wondered
I have not wandered


the draught seeps through the cracks
under the door to the other half

I am trying to keep the door shut
as I lean with my back firmly
against it


the vibration from the other side
is tickling up my legs and
thundering through
barreling against my ribs

like pebbles kicked
through a drainpipe

I am full and empty
all at once
my insides fall away
I refill.

The other half is desire
thick and sweet
but also venom

It stops up the flow
of my life, and I am driven
by images
and want to knock down, and
push up the stairs

I lift fruit to my mouth and
suck the vinegar of rot
between my teeth

I laughed at the obvious daggers in men’s smiles
hubris smeared across my body like tar
desire is a false key
that opens nothing
cut my throat, why don’t you


tell me to listen, and I will
bite off your tongue




The eyes are green. Who
knew? He has a look.

A wolf is in him.

He has figured out that the
most part of him is
and it lurks and seethes in his eyes, snarling
and guttural.

Everything else is tranquil and flat.
Cool as cruel.

This is a disaster.