Written By: Conor Ryan
at 3:03 AM - vomit hits the hardwood
as chattering voices are
decoded by the dusty box
fan. they wear garish wicker
masks. root themselves politely
outside my third story window - toes
an inch from the salt line. aislings
of loved ones slipped and scored
by all my worst mistakes
breathed to life by unfiltered
rage smoked down to burnt fingers.
texting excuses on a garbage-strewn
philly street. throwing my gifts
back at me - halfway through my shift
in a corpse of a mall. peeling away
from my boss' house in a dented car.
slamming a palm into my pitted chest
in front of their dad's house. and still -
some nights these many years
later - my wards are useless.
they all kick away the seven nails
in tandem, rip down the rusted horseshoe,
and snort the lines of mugwort and rosemary.
gut laughs echo as i slide my bleeding eyes
out of the guillotine and under the covers.
Conor Ryan has been quietly sharing his poetry via the moniker @itypedumbthings for almost a decade now. His poems have been called both “unhinged” and “weirdly tender” by strangers on the internet. Besides being self-leaked into the void, his poems have been featured in places like Moss Puppy Magazine, Swim Press, Vinegar Press, and Eulogy Press.