Nothing Without You


Please don’t leave me.

I need you

To be myself.

I can’t take life without you.

I don’t know what I would do.

I will change.

Whatever I have done wrong, I can change it.

I’ll do the dishes more.

I’ll work out.

I’ll get a better job.

Don’t leave me.

You like that guy better?

I can be that guy.

Whatever he has that I don’t have,

Just let me know what it is,

And I’ll have it too.

Yes, people can change.

I am a blank, empty shell.


Fill me with whatever you need.

I don’t know what I am without you.

I’ll be whoever you need.

How can you turn an offer like this down?

Don’t you want to be worshipped?

Don’t you want a slave?

Isn’t this

The ultimate love?

How can I give you

A fulfilling relationship?


One more chance.

I’ll try harder

To be better.

A new man.

A different man.

Let me try again.














The Thing in my Throat


I want this thing in my throat

To grow legs and crawl out of me

I want it to wander the world

And learn wisdom

I want it to ponder the mysteries of the universe

I want it to talk with sages

About God and the meaning of life.

I want it to meet lots of other things with legs.

I want it to go on a shonen training arc.

I want it to come home to me

Wiser, stronger

Fierce brave and bold

I want to see its journeys in its demeanor

I want to be proud of it

Right down to my bones

And I can call it my son

And it will know I am its mother

And then

I can wrap it in a tissue

And flush it down the toilet

But only

After it’s lived a full, full life.

I hope one day

To raise the thing that will best me.

But until that day

This stupid shit will keep happening.














That feather touch


That feather touch

You are so light

So gentle with me

Do you think I will break?

I pour your coffee

You laugh at my joke

Why can’t we be forever.

I want this to be forever.

But you’re slipping through my fingers

You sublimate

And before I can understand why

You’re nothing but ether

A soft golden glow of remembrance.

A ray of sun lighting up the dust motes

Alighting on your picture.

And although it’s been weeks

Since you were here

Your touch lingers on my hair.


I’m not ready

It’s not true

Your picture is here

But it’s not you













The Visitors


I opened the window long before sunrise. Then I walked through the whole house, looking for anything that they might use against me in the light. A piece of hard candy on the floor could be a fatal mistake.

I had to placate them.

Even though I hadn’t told them anything, my children were on edge. They knew something was wrong. Kids are good at reading their parents.

A small sound in the hallway made me jump. But it was only my youngest daughter, in her footie pajamas, her face screwed up in childish misery.

“Mommy,” she said. “What is that smell?”

“Quiet, baby. It’s just the Visitors. Go back to sleep. I love you.” I held her close so she wouldn’t see my tears. I love you.

By the time she went back to sleep, the daylight was upon us in full force. I hadn’t begun the sacrifice. I hadn’t done enough. It didn’t matter; no matter how much I did, it was never enough.

I hurried to the kitchen and got out the eggs, the bacon, the butter for the sacrifice. They must be appeased.

A fatty thumping on the stairs.

Oh my god oh my god.

And there in the kitchen archway stood a harbinger of the apocalypse, my mother in law, cigarette in hand. She wore a puffy pink robe, which had fallen open, exposing her grotesque choices in underwear and in self-care.

“Where’s breakfast,” she snarled.

The other one would be down any minute. Soon our home would become a hellscape.














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