~ 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…

~ drawing.

I look at my shirt. It’s white, with blue leaves on it. All sorts of blue — sky blue, baby blue, azure. And then I look at myself and my math homework. I find it comical some days that something made out of symbols on paper can have the power to completely destroy whatever dregs…

~ serial killer.

Does it feel goodTo shred your friends to piecesSo you can fill their bloodInto the void inside you?Wherever you goThere are inevitable casualties,Corpses left wonderingWhat they did wrongWhile their insides rot and their minds scream.I have seen you wait Until the sun sets to strikeA woman, and in the morningYou pretended you didn’t;In the morning…

~ stitch my skin.

The road we were walking on was lined with trees, Black and white stripes illuminating tired faces, Two people sick of all the races Childhood and real life put them through — It was always, “Let me listen to you,” And, “You’re young, you don’t know what to do; If I were you…” I split…

~ (x) you are not here.

His sinisterness is silent, Black liquid slowly poisons his veins(He is drowning.)It emerged from a dark placeA snowball of rope:Braiding one strand of jealousy,One of possessiveness, Another of fear; together they makeA macabre manWho lives by the phraseUse and discard.(His motivations — or mine — are irrelevant.)No matter my lightOr how bright I tried to…

~ meditation.

Find a quiet place inside a forest,With leaves that crunch under your feet;Even Bach would perturb the peace:No false self-aggrandizing epiphanies. Life is not poetry.Place your mat upon the twigs,Fold it once, twice, four timesTo save yourself the pain —It comes in doses, or waves,Even though you try to escape it,It finds you when you…