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New York is visceral, raw, and loud and it smells like money and pizza and vice and it's beautiful and big, Statue-of-Liberty-big, Empire-State-Building-big, New-York-City-big, big like big buildings and ideas, it's the Big Apple, Apple and Macy's and Prada and Gucci and everything else all huddled together on Broadway and Times Square, next to Wall Street, trading stock shares, stock broker stock broken, boxed-in, stacking broken boxes, sucks to be broke in New York, stuck life, static dreams and taxes higher than skyscrapers, ought to box your stuff and move, neighbors making paper, so now you're stacking paper newspapers north of 110, Manh

Kiss me on the neck like you're single and make me fall for your flirtatious hips and closed eyes, hot peach sunshine. Hot ice adorning your breasts, how I feel the heat of summer, summer's beauty in your pupils slightly dilated from the dark bedroom keeping your gaze unclear, but it's four in the morning and who needs eyesight or foresight, hindsight yipping its eager cry when you wake up, groggy but smiling like you're single, single nights of getting drunk and laid, swallowing vodka and kisses, unprotected lust, too charismatic to resist, too anxiogenic to repeat, too bizarre to call back in the morning, so I text you and you put off the w

The boy with the red Ursinus hoodie made me feel happy today when he rubbed my sweater and exhaled a smile on my hair when he softly kissed my cheek for an all-too-short moment when I held his hand and peeked over to see him grinning from ear to ear when I put the weight of my week on his chest and felt comfortable. The boy with the red Ursinus hoodie made me feel comfortable today when I felt for the longest time that I could fall asleep on his torso and hold his hand forever when I wrapped myself around him in the cold and cuddled him for more than warmth when I could feel his heart beating through his clothes and heating up my neck when u

I smoked Christ's cigarettes last night, and they were wonderful, and they made me cough black soot and fire, but they were whole and tasty. I smoked Christ's cigarettes last night, and I felt good about myself for a bit, as that holy smoke lingered in my throat, as I exhaled sin, and as I exhaled suffering. I smoked Christ's cigarettes last night, and I wept spent ashes all over the carpet, and I stared down those new stains with abject sadness. I smoked Christ's cigarettes last night, but in my nicotine-fueled haze, I forgot to pray for goodness. I smoked Christ's cigarettes last night, but I was too comfortable, and the night was too brigh

Cutthroat magician, you spit fire and red-hot vitriol and spit. Cutthroat magician, do you care about me? Cutthroat magician, I sometimes whisper your name in the dark, when there's nobody around. Cutthroat magician, what comes to mind when you hear my name? Cutthroat magician, if you think the way you speak, you never hear my name. Cutthroat magician, who am I to you? Cutthroat magician, your words hit my heart like a cigarette burning into my skin. Cutthroat magician, my skin is on fire. Cutthroat magician, my skin is on fire when it aches and it stings to sit in that skin around you. Cutthroat magician, what do you know of family