i write about death

i write about death because it has been dealt to me in droves

dead dogs, dead people. doesn’t matter it’s never ending.

a younger, more animist version of me once even mourned a dead fan


Junior Year of College Almost Broke Me (a series of haikus)

Like Lotus flower

The best of us rise from mud

Darks root, bright futures


So many craft plans

Amazon delivers all

Never leaving home


December monsoon

I have always been a fan

Of rain, over snow


Family party

There is some blood on the floor

But its not over…


nothing left to write

I should use the longest night

maybe, to sleep some


Fight me physically.

I just don’t care anymore

Internal screaming.



Poets, you draw my ire

Please fuck off Melvin (haikus pt 2)


We all know that most

Of your trite conceits are on

Your grumpy loves


Rambler number four

Is the best thing that happened

To English writers


I have yet to drown

Like those puppies of London

But I would like to.


No Pope I don’t think

About my place with God oft’

Wine would be nice though.


I have been singing

About grammar diagrams

To the cats. Kill me


And so this is it

I’m going to die here like this

With Part B of the Norton English Anthology being used as lumbar support


you are an adult

when your greatest joy in weeks

is new underwear


You’ve become cliche

and what could you really gain

if you are the (best?)