A Vigil of Scarlet Necks

It hangs sanguine on their necks like a clay verandah. 

Their red splotches have a squeak for a namesake, 

A remarkably insignificant rite of passage.


It’s Been a While

12:24 PM and the day’s already been lived-

Everything else is necessary overtime.

I swipe hundreds of cards but couldn’t unlock my own door.

My laptop, like myself, incapable of charging their battery.

I’ve listened to maybe three songs in the past week,

But everyone keeps asking me to describe how music makes them be feel,

And be smart. Eloquent.