Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.

My death from the wrists, two name tags, blood worn like a corsage to bloom one on the left and one on the right.

I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or booze. It is your Doppelganger trying to get out. Beware...Beware...

Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.

Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.

I’ll put it out there: I am scarred by the nostalgic indicipherability of my own desires; I an engulfed by the intimidating unknown, pushed through darkness and dragged down by the irretrievable past sweetness of my memories.

Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.