i can’t scrub this feeling
from my skin
sticks to me
like saran wrap in those
auto-erotic asphyxiation
pics from the coroner’s office
i stretch and stretch
pushing the fatigue out
until my joints separate
one by one
the pockets between bones
pop with gas or separation
anxiety
as if there were a difference
the sky has hit that summer blue
shade too soon for me
and tomorrow the sun will hang
white in the sky
a judgment on all of us
Words and Feathers 
Sometimes all I can do is make a kind of sighing, whimpering sort of noise when I read your work. Just utterly, utterly beautiful.
Wow, that’s quite the compliment. Thanks so much 🙏
Damn, no one can make a morgue sound quite as sexy as you can. Lol. I always have to dedicate enough time to visit, because I drool over your expressions. Perilous is right, you know. Whimpering has escaped my lips when I’ve read you.
Y’all are making blush like a schoolboy. 😳
I’m glad you enjoy my work. It’s gratifying to think that my weirdness is enjoyed.
Please. If you weren’t weird, my life would’ve been less fulfilling in thoughts and fantasy. Thank God there are people like you.
Yeah your poems are alright. It’s not like I’ve got any of them printed off and pinned to my cork board or anything. *looks sheepish*.
That’s so cool! I don’t even print out my poems. Thanks!