
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