Or so I’ve been told by a guy I didn’t sleep with — There are a few places that are bound to absorb the odor of rotten utterances. Twitter. The comments section of pretty much any public figure or newspaper. And Instagram DMs. For the most part, I have given the first two a rest. I’m not a massive ‘grammer, either. But I…

Using situations instead of hierarchy — When I think about people close to me, I encounter a thick fog, oblivious to anything on the other side. I don’t know what it means to be “close” anymore. If you ask me who I speak to the most, I can think of the top two people. If you…

A poem — this is your moment, your life, your sea of moments, your sea of change, this this is for you you this is your “Know” moment, your a-ha, your this . beautiful daughter of the Sun, beacon of light, it’s your destiny Destiny! it is, yes, your belly knows it, so does your heart. you have listened, you…

A poem — How can I put this? Today, I can’t seem to get a grasp on how things. Are. How things are. How do I feel? To answer that question, I have to ask how my life feels. How everything feels. To connect dots that don’t want to be connected. It seems…

A poem — I want to be free. I want to want to be free. Stop haunting me, Stop judging me, Stop stop stop stop And stop again. Let me be. Let my brow unknit, Let my breath drop, Let my belly fill up And fill me up. Let me rest while walking, while sleeping, Rest…

A poem — I am grateful. I am grateful for this life. I am grateful for seeing the light through the chaos, the pain I am grateful that this food nourishes my bones I am grateful for the breath that I take after I’m thrown into the deep end, again and again. I…

A poem — My heart is as wide as the ocean My mind as hot as the sun When I’m done tracing my footsteps, My true life will have already begun I want to fly and sit still My dreams are endless My courage spilled through a quill Will I face the fact…

A poem — Clarity folds into an insular oasis beyond my reach. It sits tranquil while I venture with effort. I make the steps, I clear the path and just when I think I’m getting close, it evades. The longing for something that makes sense is making my arms feel tender and sore, grasping for…

A poem — Lasting impact on a wounded heart: a scar A scar is one drop of oxygen in the bucket of time, the tears of the gods nursing aging flesh, but in their own Time: what is time if not a gift wrapped into the present taking the hollow holes of the past, filling them with…