Very rarely do I allow myself to obsess over celebrities… plus, all the “hot” guys like Channing Tatum & Ryan Reynolds are just gross to me. However, if said celebrity happens to be a smoldering mix of Paul Newman & Marlon Brando… well, exceptions will be made. Tom Hardy. He’s just so darn adorable when he smiles and those funny sticky-outy ears and those LIPS and and and…
…Oh, jeez, I said smoldering, didn’t I?
Another nearly sleepless night. Third in a row.
I’ve felt the tension growing, burning in my brain for days,
the fire never dying, the flame flickering & licking at the back of my eyes.
This morning at 3AM my chest was hollow.
I thought to search for my heart but you didn’t deem it a worthwhile pursuit;
neither did I & there’s nothing but nothing behind my ribs & for the life of me,
I can’t understand why it’s so difficult to fill this space with air.
I just hope you’re scared.
I’m sleepless but I’m not losing sleep, I’m giving it away
exchanging my slumber for silence
away from the deafening dreamland you nightly defile.
I try to understand a fire. I try to hold a flame.
I took a pill & shook up sweet tea & the taste fell away from my tongue.
I swallowed & it stuck in my throat until I spat it onto the sidewalk.
Famished & full, careful & caustic, I anticipate the tile pressed to my cheek.
It’s really one of the only things, facedown. It’s all I’ve felt in weeks.










