Writing that blends the lines of creativity more and more

Nostalgia even before it’s over

Do you ever feel nostalgic for the people you never got to know? Am I full of others emotions or of my own–what do I horde from their sorrows. Lunch time in Paris was where I got to know myself the most. Do you think the city remembers me? How about my forlorn gaze placing…


Connected to my senses, no matter which way they pull you in a trance of synethesia I recognize all that I’m doing as performative. In my own spirals of becoming I’m reminded to continually turn to the power of the ocean and ask how I am my own Beau Capitaine. It is only the sun…

Three Unearthed

August Evening I disclosed a l l of it to you As if it wasn’t eight years ago The tears The blame The secrets I was forced to keep The uneaten food wrapped up in her spit napkins Eight years ago I believed I deserved the guilt You were calm. You were careful. Studying my…


Don’t tell me what its like not to be a dreamer My eyes are wide open, switching through the lenses. Don’t tell me what its like not to be a dreamer switching through the lenses, to see which I prefer Don’t tell me what its like not to always wonder I’m only waiting for things…

Legacy without hurt

You said you felt like me–coming back from a walk with fallen leaves I would’ve picked out, fallen from a tree I wonder what will be my impact that lasts the joy, growth, and pain intertwined from our pasts

A Walk Through Time and Deterioration

The small hand of the clock is on eleven, I reach over to the night stand for a flashlight–without it a long dark trek to the bathroom would lie before me–a daunting route for a five year old from her childhood bed in her Granny’s home. Outside the sky is bright for this time of…

I’ll try to describe it, but I think it’s only for me

Isn’t life beautiful in the way that we have so many intimate moments with ourselves? Where no-one else is capable of knowing or understanding? A compilation of calendar years that won’t settle to arrange themselves in an agenda. Like when I finally cried, and it was silent and warm. I loved that drive, past the…

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