If you're anything like me, you hate doors.

She keeps the radio on soft standby to find out who didn't die today.
She licks fresh milk off her lips.

She gets some stains on her sleeve.
A caffeine shot doused in kerosene.

Say, "Please come back to our small talk and empty conversations."

She says, "You don't talk like that in real life."

"Neither do you."

The old familiar sting of a turquoise matador, holding its breath half to death.

So I looked into her portfolio of success stories and her
faint smirk
of studied indifference.

Today, everyone I saw wore spectacles.

She turns the volume further down and says
a casual tragedy is no big deal.

I wake up to a blaring siren from the ground floor of the apartments.

put on a pair of jeans, trip, stand back up
shirt, jumper, jacket
start to sweat
stuff phone into pocket with jittery hands

make it to the door and the knob is too hot to turn.

If a bunny-beanie girl comes walking your way,
make sure you nod your head and say good day,
the weather's really fine and I could really do
With a steaming hot pot of fresh rabbit stew.