Salem, 2022

Maybe she cursed me,
I say
in masterful avoidance,
as though I don’t
dodge women,
like I didn’t delete
my dating apps,
it’s almost like I
won’t accept responsibility
for being alone.

I boot up the game again,
look at the log
(315 hours played).
No, it can’t be me.


Midnight Snack

I didn’t open the packet of ham,
though my stomach growled
and clawed for sustenance.
The package sat unopened,
a perfect and joyful clam,
and clutching that pearl meant pain for someone.
Me, for my perfectionist streak;
the animals, for their murders.
My hands avoided the first cut,
and the second,
the plasticine rending,
I would not do.
Hunger unending, for my laziness,
my strangeness – adieu.


The Nostalgia Hallway

I remember
when snow wasn’t so cold,
and flurries meant relaxation,
a day free of worries
with no obligations.
When moonlight was warm,
for I had not yet glanced
upon any dark sides.
Things were light,
and my mind, quiet.
When a computer
opened doors to adventure
and I had to build my social media
by myself.

I swear, this isn’t supposed to be a reminiscence.

I remember
when I smiled without acting,
and laughed without thinking,
I could think without guessing.
I spoke truth without confessing.
Somehow, I lacked burdens
and birds could stop me
with a simple whistle.

I want to feel it again,
the soft slide of hot chocolate
in my gullet,
of stew in my stomach
while snow dims the noise
and a book, a game,
a good time
becomes my mind.