Charcoal sticks scuffed as he ambled, then stopped near my elbow. “You have lovely lips.” The scuffing slowed.
A total of seventeen hours of flight over three days found us half broken and drained at our doorstep. Our house looked strange.
I haven’t written a single poem in months.
Britney Spears almost killed me.
“I had a dream about you,” he said. How should I reply to that?
It was a long walk to the coast, but it would be my last chance.
I knew that I was destined to fail my daughter in some profound way, so when she turned away from my nipple, stiffening in my arms, her soft lips tightly pursed, I was not surprised.
Late Saturday afternoon, picked up my pills from the pharmacy a block away. That's all I can walk now.
Charlie asks for “sunbabies” at lunch during my first week as the nanny. I don’t know what he means. I am already failing at this job.
Tears stream down the face of the woman behind us. She repeats softly, “I don’t know why I’m crying! I’m just crying because you’re crying.”
I’m lost in numb daydreams, gazing at lush oak trees. Craving more, I squint through the leaves and branches.
I hesitated to tell the tattooed counterman at Good Eats he had a body odor problem.
The acid makes it hard to count the ravers. Hundreds? Thousands?
The cries rise to a crescendo just as the casket is lowered into a pit. A chorus breaks out in lament against a stifling air heavy with the scent of grief.
The rain had been incessant and biblical for days and weeks and nearing a month.
I am a block of marble, heavy and stuck as I watch Melinda throw Becky’s extra-large underwear outside. Night swallows them. Melinda jeers.
I sat opposite my wife, but this was not the date I had planned. This had become hostile, confrontational.
I sneak the empty beer cans out to the recycling bin; lifting up some cardboard and the worst drawings the kids made, I hide the cans, evidence I'm not doing as well as it seems.
I end the Viber call after my psychiatrist diagnoses me with anxiety disorder, before hopping inside the shower, where I let the water drain everything that’s left of me. CW: Sexual Abuse
Here she was, waiting for the guy she swiped right on, who responded in kind. Neither believed an app existed for the non-able-bodied starving for physical contact.