OBSIDIAN

FOR A SPLIT SECOND 

I SEE MY NAME, 

WRITTEN BY HAND, 

ON THE SIDE 

OF A BUILDING, 

LOVING HIM LIKE A BROTHER, 

A REAL UNCONDITIONAL LOVER,

ALWAYS SUCKING 

ON SOME MENTHOL BULLSHIT.

I’M IN BEREAVEMENT, 

BECAUSE

I’VE REALIZED 

THEY’RE JUST SAYING WORDS. 

LIKE PENNY, 

REPENT, 

AND WATER. SO MUCH WATER.

IT MEANS NOTHING, 

NOT SO MUCH,

AS DAY-DRINKING, 

IN THE MONTH 

OF MAY. 

EVEN THOUGH, 

THESE THINGS HAVE 

OUT-WORSENED 

THEMSELVES.

From now on, I’m only fucking men with master’s degrees, SHE SAYS. 

HOW DO YOU NOT WANT TO DIE HERE?

I’M BREATHING IN 

THE AIR 

THAT EXITS 

YOUR MOUTH. 

THIS IS 

TAKING 

SPACE, AND 

I GET IT,.