Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
Her casket has a sterling lock — a key twelve-year-old sisters stalk, one summer day guardians are away. Bisque amputee they free, parts, dossier, undefiled in doily, French macrame, placed inside a curio, top shelf — you’ll have to wait to grow, know, yourselves, places grown-ups hide keys, pieces, doctors Read more
After Crystal Williams’ “The Voice of God,” For Aretha Franklin her voice was the soundtrack to after-school pick-me-ups from the trauma of every reluctant schoolyard memento uplifting auras that filled the room accompanying my mother’s cooking as she shuffled from the kitchen to the dining room, switching up her vinyl Read more
Rejoice oh Anne of a Thousand, Castrate the insolent jutting of the cold, dead factory; Rejoice oh Anne of a Thousand, Dig deep in the ground, in Lethe-Wards, Where the purest water and surest warmth can be found. Rejoice oh Anne of Thousand; Like the gray sky, be cold to Read more
I will not be there when you are the age I am now— this we must face. I waited to have you for reasons that are old rags of memory from clothes I wore before you. In today’s mirror I see you, orphaned, in your diaphanous future— thin skin, fragile Read more
Queen Violet? Dream flowing like blood from your wound? They put you away, huh Darling? You wear a hospital gown and stand on a rock. Natives surround you, raw sex in costumes strange to us. I want to stand beside you on the rock to take your place but I’m Read more
my skin isn’t paper but that doesn’t stop me from carving the weight of the world into my wrists crimson blood tiger stripes. or from ripping apart the pages of a story i never asked to be in don’t judge a book by its cover-up that is, pant legs and Read more
It’s like being drunk, my fingers running through the dollhouse knocking over everything I don’t know what’s happening to me, the clumsiness, the heaviness of city infrastructure weakening over time, potholes replacing my eyes, my mouth a bridge collapsing in the middle my nose a public school rotting from the Read more
She used to feel like home. back when I couldn’t tell the difference between the hand I wanted to hold and the thumb she held me under. The crushing pressure of my reflection sinking further until I couldn’t see myself existing outside of her shadow. And just like my home, Read more