~ aftermath of a collateral disaster.

Oh to not be swallowed whole by the darkness yet again — to be able to break through the surface and breathe to be able to discard that weight fastened upon my own two feet (not by me) as I tread water for a thousand kilometres, a thousand sunsets, and still I travel in circles….

~ zukunft.

I long for green fields. The sun will shine upon my ragged face Fill up my fragmented selves And let me make peace with the oldness. The past will remain a black hole From which only I escape. I will see the stars Swirling behind me, twinkling Like glitter thrown onto the night sky. They…

~ jupiter’s creation.

Sometimes I feel We are all infinite Each of us with our own pain Our own suffering. Every single one Our own god. We try to control Our earthly lives With bits of paper. Some blood-red ink. And funeral pyres For books and minds — I will create a planet To reflect the worst of…

~ alignment.

Try to fit me into a box — You cannot. Some part of me Always spills out of The pill organizers’ plastic dividers. On Monday I conform to neat circles, Like factory-made cupcakes Or blue ceramic plates. On Tuesday I shake the last dregs of sleep From my cup of anxiety, and work. On Wednesdays…

~ the last call.

the darkness always begins as a pinprick in the air; it rises like smoke towards my eyes and it waves, shyly, afraid I will lose it again. it turns into a river, and cups itself into my outstretched hands. I raise it to the sky, waiting for the raven to collect it, but now it…

~ rib cage.

The cover of a yellow book makes a crease upon my hand, Although its words are sharp, it is not a knife. Words can cut through skin, blood, and bones, And leave no scars. But knives — Knives! Surgical. Fatal. Precise. There is a reason I have never sliced a single apple Into a thousand…

~ the long night.

I watch as the darkness unfolds: A tiny cube of black in my crowded room — I am the only one here. There is a chair falling Apart, like the bed, and the table, and the lone stair. My blankets are unwashed for weeks, although It is only cold inside my head. They are blue…

~ pensacola, florida.

Sometimes the world feels so much larger than it appears. Stories woven together in gentle unhaste: the sky is full of nodes And edges are constellations. I can snip the ones I don’t want off And knot together the ones I care about. Over the last few months, Some friends have turned into enemies I…

~ untethered.

wandering through windows i have always been invisible. a silent existence.

~ fissures.

In the surest of convictions The strongest of women There are cracks Running from head to toe From vein to polished fingernail, Chapped hair and burnt lips Speak in sobering sips The Universal language of pain — Red wardrobes red beds a mother Threatening to strangle herself, Her two children watch, afraid, The door to…