Collection of Untitled Poems





6/7/2021



Each parched moment

awaits me - trembling

The dichotomy of your empty-

shallow with crashing waves



hollowing me

whole




6/14/2021

At mourning's dawn

you spit off a shrapnel of fruit

holding it out- holding out

Enough is enough is

enough





7/15/2-21


You're the kind of master mind

preferring clay as a way to

play with your prey




Stop motion, and they fold

until they do as they are told


the creatures of your kiln,

liken it to hell