Liquid hunger kissing
will slowly disrupt
savage starving streets
mouths, hair, eyes, flesh…
part the pale almond dawn.


Serotonin with a side of fries, please
The writing, art, and other mental health randomness from a 40 something teacher from New Jersey.
Liquid hunger kissing
will slowly disrupt
savage starving streets
mouths, hair, eyes, flesh…
part the pale almond dawn.


“Let our scars fall in love.” – Galway Kinnell
Let the tire tracks we leave
in the fresh powder
fall in love with the arms
already asleep with The Walking Dead.
Let the fuel lights of our minds
love us enough to keep us
going twenty more miles,
on the nights we can’t stop
for fear of missing the next brilliant idea.
Let the snow-covered curbs we hit
while making careless right turns
forgive us and love us anyway
though we forget they are there
to keep us inbounds.
And let the windows we fail to defrost
thoroughly in the morning have mercy upon us.
Let their benevolence allow us
just the right amount of clarity to see
the brake lights ahead of us,
the coffee shops to the right of us,
and the phantoms behind us.

Believing the voices of others
is like a fatal a accident on the side
of the interstate.
You promise yourself you won’t
pause and look, but you do it anyway.
Feeling the stare of others on your skin
is an afternoon when you’re body is done with the ocean-
when you’re not sure whether you feel soft, salted,
and cleansed – or weighted, wrinkled, and burned.
Tasting the deception of others
is like that one deceiving berry,
the one on the bottom that looks as brilliant as all the others,
but when you bite into it, the blandness fails
to satisfy your violent need for sweet half-truths.
touching the hand of another can be the last thing
you want to do if you don’t want to chance
remembering a name – and the only thing
you want to do, if you want to forget your own for a while.



