High Horse

$999,999,999,999,999 

Verging on all things I said I'd give up 
Because keeping track and staying disciplined is hopeless 

Fluttered lids. And their half-visions 
You noticed and asked but it didn't make anything feel better 
I used to check for you first thing on waking but can't be bothered now 

It's time for us to question ourselves the way a flute prods the meditations of a nighttime lull of a Martial Arts Movie 

Why do i continually want to cut out little tics? It won't lead me any closer to a crispy lifestyle. There's hardly any fluidity, instead, scores of fragments which keep us from substantial development. Seconds a lifetime 

The freshest looking foto is grimy in situ




Male romper 

Most vocalists sound bad, regardless of genre 
I don't want to be put in a bind by saying so, 
but the way that light bing'd off your cheek 
led me down so many linelessly ivory 
   hallways, repeatedly coming to and fading 
Fading: I wish I could for good I wish 
Minimal encounter would become 
I would become pastoral. alas 
My child has learned the word Never 
The melodramas contain unspeakable precarity 

Issues of kulchur: 
the incessant trenchcoat display 
opening to flash one's wares 
wears on an already waning interest 
There is a broad waning… 

I wear all green for good luck.




No, i'm not that far gone 

I'm a man with needs 
  Stuck behind a drunken police 
What can i tell you 
The nights are growing 
  and with this , a shqdow 
—-yours, i can not nestle in 
The road winding, curvy 
  Swaying like a decapitation 
Th final moments movements 
of an ending 

a Narcissist berates everyone that matters 
  then says none of it mattered 
Ive got a new reason, personally 

Ending my associations 
  You are trying to hurt my mind 
Trying to tell me what to like 
the Best Thing is to close the dor 

Drunk for one day 
Sleazzy at an angle 
I'm going away 
No not that far 
Well it's been fun 
But I'm going away




Fertility 

A series of expulsions… 
Torrential my feelings 
Repressed for a moment 
Flood'ed posthaste with 
Reality and its necessary alterations 
None of it ever quite sync'd 
A stagger a stutter a flood 
of They Are Overbearing 
And worth neglecting 
What is Anyone Worth 
(Especially the narcissists 
in their epidemic 
of They Are Overbearing 
And worth the idea but not 
Reality and its necessary alterations)? 
I'm sidelong I'm nice I'm not really 
None of it ever Convincing. 
Does it matter. Does any comment matter 
If you get as subjectless as you can 
There's no need for persuasion 
There' a slick dip off into a fertile, 
Torrential series of expulsions 
Which will stagger off restless into 
A night flooded with fog

COREY QURESHI IS A WRITER BASED IN PHILADELPHIA. HE IS THE AUTHOR OF SEVERAL CHAPBOOKS OF POETRY, MOST RECENTLY you are bereft IN OCTOBER 2025. HE RUNS THE WEBSITE / READING SERIES BOXX PRESS. @q_boxo