Fantasies & Fiction

There’s a fantasy, at the surface of my spine It flutters into your arms like a Gothic Romance choking on its own saliva I spill the rainbows that you planted in my bladder ~ an acid leaves my body crawling on all fours, There’s a lullaby growing in my belly & with every kiss, you

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Night Creatures

All the night Creatures crawled up to my desk ~ & I wondered… What Creature am I in their language? The one with the touch of Death or the God with untimely sunlight ~ as bright as a snowfall in the raging summers? They keep coming back, I don’t think they’ve a name for me.

Will You Write Yourself?

An excerpt from a poem, a question to myself and fellow writers; Will you write yourself?

of independence & french fries

i grew up as independent as the roof on my head, but i still needed the walls to float i sometimes feel like the plants sittingoutside my window, just observing my life maybe this is just an astral lie or maybe im a stray dog looking for a shed to sleep under im a window

Of Women & Moonlight

A land that pushes women to the stature of a Goddess Is also adept at pulling them down when necessary This reminds me of necessities that arise out of despai A colony of ants climb the hills that reek of sweet sanity Between my knees are bruises that never healed Between my palms are lines

The Scream of a Deaf Girl (Short Story)

The wind never talked to me but she used to always tickle my stomach while I’d laugh like a maniac when I was a little kid. Sure, I had never heard her but she was my best friend. I think we both understood each other way better than most people would. They never heard me

Weakening

Teal skies peeling off their skin Their mouth is dripping with diamonds They smell like paradise under the yellow sun The chair is paper, it crumbles beneath my weight My hair tastes of wood Orange juice splattered across the counter A broken hand caressing the flower vase The floor is water and I slip I

Staircase to Earth

Hell. All this time, he spoke to me in varied hues of oranges and reds. He whispered in flames that burned my head, he moved about in a curfew that swept my need for fresh air. I am a tree, with a broken heart carved on my stomach. The knots of insomnia tighten around my

The Prayer

There are mosquito bites all over my feet The itch grows like climbers around my knees My veins circle the heart My hands run out of control I’m spinning in this web of my creation I’m a collector like spiders Except that I don’t devour upon my hosts I watch them grow out of their

D I V I D E

The gap between my teeth widens I’m six years of carelessness and a body clothed in flesh My flesh is skin and a human anatomy I’m yet to understand My flesh is carrot juice and French fries My flesh is a subtraction of the numerical, perhaps the only confusion in my life My flesh is