New episodes and poems land in your email inbox as they're written.
Most traps don't look like cages. Most arrive smiling, asking how your day was.
Is it me?
You?
Tell me where his eyes land
and I'll rearrange the room.
Your most shameful desires,
mixed the bottle before you knew
you were thirsty.
I set the lights low enough,
so your loneliness looked intentional.
Just enough attention
to make the chair fit better.
Just enough eye contact
to make you forget
you were planning to leave.
Most traps don't look like cages.
Most arrive smiling,
asking how your day was.
And by the time you notice
the room was built around you,
you've already called it 'my home.'
New episodes and poems land in your inbox as they're written — no algorithm between you and the words.
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