There’s a restlessness that comes with Spring.

As the flowers and the trees shake off their frosty coats

my bones clamor all over each other trying to escape

the confines of my body. And my marrow sends love notes

to every passing cloud.

Mama begs my feet to knead her back

and the stars reach out and grab my veins,

filling them with fire–an electric attack.

The roots of trees rise up

to push me off the ground until

face to face with the moon

not even my teeth can stay still.


They turn ebony and ivory

and start to dance to a wild, reckless rhythm.


The drums in my ears pound louder

and louder sounding Spring’s anthem.

And i’m a slave to the season.




study on a human

I once met a human.

who was soft and hilarious.

I had known other humans.

but this particular specimen

was something of an oddity.

it didn’t dance or sing,

or give a flying fuck what  I thought of it.

In a movie, this would mean I liked it more:

manic pixie dream team.

but in reality, I think too highly of myself

to be around a human who doesn’t care for my opinion.

just a human

who’s soul was soft like

the blood-red jelly

of a doughnut;

like the dark, dangerous mud

of a crowded swimming hole.

i hate to get my hands sticky,

and crowded swimming holes make bad instagrams.