...but maybe we don't do hits. (on neocities.org)

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(8/16/2026)

After You (2026)

I'm out ahead, while you run behind;
are you chasing me, or following in my stead?
When it's/we're like this, nothing has changed;
We're young, it's summer.
I blur and blot my eyes and run against the changing light,
bleeding, catching on me and drifting to you.
Good things flit away like minnows,
and burn up in the atmosphere, and nothing stays forever,
and no one acts how you'd beg them to, and you and I
will become strangers all over again.
And then it's on your trail once more.
For right now, sunlight dapples our skin like fawn's coats.
You're still behind me, on my trail,
I'd know you by footsteps alone.

(8/16/2026)

Merit Girl (2026)

When they fish my body out of the bay,
I'll turn my bloated body to face you,
show my good side to the cameras;
Manifest in your living room hours afterward,
alive, again,
Your perfect girl; the perfect vision.
Show you a smile like light shining off the water,
"Did you like it?"
I'd do anything to make you miss me.
"I told you I was sick."

(8/3/2026)

Silver Light (2026)

There's an idea inside of you;
looking out with your eyes, and
your imperative is to draw it up from
where it lives inside your chest.
Through smoke or flame, or by whatever
means it requires, flushing it into
the clear cavity of your mind, as hounds
chase foxes and birds,
lit white-hot with a camera's shutter.
Seeing it, fully-formed,
in wait behind your eyelids.
Thoughts form, for you, as do
such things as tumors; parasitic twins;
notions of a free-fall into traffic
from a great height.
Are you hearing me?
Rack the slide,
Cut at the muscle with the flash of a silver blade.
Blink and you'll miss it.