Do not enter the third stanza—it creaks under the weight of forgotten metaphors.Beware the attic of lost rhymes.Something moves beneath the punctuation.A misplaced comma whispers your name.The poem wants you to leave,but the final line is locked.
Month: March 2025
A Brief History of Arguments Between the Sun and the Moon
The moon says, “I am cool.”The sun replies, “I am necessary.”The moon scoffs, “And yet, I control the tides.”The sun sneers, “And yet, they wait for me to return.”The stars hold their breath.The planets roll their eyes.The Earth spins away,choosing not to pick a side.
The Universe is a Laundromat at 3 AM
A black hole spins in the corner,guzzling socks and stray thoughts.Galaxies tumble dry,constellations cling to damp denim.Outside, the streetlights hum cosmic lullabies.I fold my t-shirts and wonder—who is pressing ‘start’ on all of this?
An Open Letter to the Last Dinosaur
Dear Sir,I regret to inform you,we have paved your kingdom.Tyrants now wear suits,predators drive hybrid cars.If you find yourself lonely,visit a museum.There, at least,you still have a name.
The Cemetery Where Clocks Go to Die
Silent cogs litter the ground like fallen leaves.Wristwatches whisper in hushed ticking ghosts,grandfather clocks lean on each other, weary.Here, time unspools—midnights bleed into noons,seconds dissolve like sugar in black coffee.
The Man Who Married a Tornado
They said it wouldn’t last,but love is a reckless wind.She kissed him in spirals,whispered thunder down his spine.He learned to dance on shifting floors,to love without walls,to kiss her in the eye of the storm.
A Love Song for the Air Conditioner
Oh humming box of artificial breeze,whisper me frost on this fevered night.Your mechanical lullaby soothes my sweating skin—a romance of whirring fans and chilled desire.Cool my aching bones,lover of Freon and function,sing to me until winter finds me again.
The Algorithm Dreams of Jellyfish
Electric pulses, neon tendrils,data dripping in bioluminescent code.The algorithm stutters—forgets its own birth,replays the sound of waves in binary,whispers in machine-speak:“I was once an ocean.”
Instructions for Eating the Moon
Step one: Find a very large spoon.Step two: Wait for high tide.Step three: Take small bites—chew carefully, the craters are sharp.Do not—under any circumstances—leave leftovers for the wolves.
The Sky is Not a Horse, But I Ride It Anyway
The sky kicks like a stubborn beast,biting my ankles with its electric teeth.I rein it in with a kite string,tie my name to a cloud,watch it melt like cotton candy in the sun.Somewhere, someone is painting this scenewith watercolors that refuse to dry.