Synthetic Warmth and the Art of Holding On
I am clutching this polyester bear with a desperation that would be
Cinderella’s Coach
The Scent of Salt and Planned Obsolescence
I’ve spent three years in a glass tower where the air
The Satin Trap of Domestic Bliss
I’ve spent ten hours today pretending to be a functioning member
The Liquid Lie of Urban Intimacy
They call this 'healing.' I’m sitting in a glass
The High Cost of Sun-Kissed Serenity
I’m standing here in a black bikini that costs more than
The High Cost of Sunset Solitude
I’m standing on this rotting pier, wearing a swimsuit that costs
Salt Water and Expensive Lies
They call this 'healing.' I’ve spent three thousand dollars
Salt Water and Expensive Lies
My therapist says I need 'grounding.' So here I am,
The Warmth of Calculated Desires
I’ve spent three years perfecting the art of being a ghost
The High Cost of Sun and Skin
I’m told this is a healing retreat. I stand here in
The Warmth of an Expensive Mistake
They call this a 'healing retreat,' which is corporate speak
The Geometry of Exposure at the Motel by the Sea
I sat on this mint-green lounge chair like a sacrificial lamb wrapped
