i write my fears down in spanish

i’ve lost count of the mornings

i am a renown conversationalist

When I hear thunder in New York for the first time

I feel like an existential vampire

I need help

i am just the asshole with the ballpoint pen

i can hold one hundred horses on the palm of my hand

after one conversation with me, one of the smartest girls i’ve ever known takes three anxiety medication pills

a seventy-eight year old woman wearing white gloves is named elba

the cigarette in the hand and then the cigarette in the eye 

We put the duet of a hammock in between two skinny trees

i have groceries in my kitchen for the first time in two years

there are constantly two things in my head

effort seems hard and foreign

the word girlfriend is only mentioned three times

i love you because you’re leaving

today I drank a sky latte with star milk

i have an empty space on my pinned conversations

Once every six months—at most