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