The Saccharine Lie of Neon Dreams
They call this a milkshake, but I know it is merely an
Cinderella’s Coach
The Mercenary of Sunbeams
They call this 'healing.' I call it a well-rehearsed performance
The Sweetness of Seasonal Delusion
They call this 'healing,' as if a slice of overpriced
The Sugar-Coated Trap of Domesticity
They call this 'healing.' A weekend getaway to a forest
The Sunshade Delusion in Beige Silk
He calls this 'healing.' He brought me to an old
The Sterile Ritual of Intimacy
I stand before the mirror in a bathroom that smells of expensive
The Sprint Towards a Beautiful Mistake
I am running across this crosswalk like a character in some low-budget
The Altar of Beautiful Lies
I stand here in this white shroud, looking like a saint who’
The Warmth of Wet Noses and Cold Hearts
They call this 'healing.' I call it a strategic truce
The Architecture of Loneliness and Lace
I’m standing on this rooftop, wearing a white bikini that costs
The Fresh Produce of Mutual Delusion
I am wearing my 'spontaneous joy' face—the one that
The Temperature of Temporary Belonging
They call this 'healing,' as if we are all just
