Mornings

Wakefulness is unwelcomed, and it arrives with fluttering eyes and soft groans of protest.

The Morning Taste Of Blood

I wake for the fourth night in a row with the lingering taste of blood in my mouth.

Anger.

The tiktoks I make about having once been suicidal make her angry. I asked her why.

In Spite Of Everything

I sit with my younger self on the eve of a new day.

Sobriety

I am dizzy off of you.