On Writing

Writing for a purpose, specially one that’s for a long term, can be so difficult to provide an impetus to. I’ve been so frustrated and annoyed at myself for the past few months. I was in a similar position at the beginning of the previous year, but it was for all the different reasons. And

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

Skin

Your skin tastes like mumbling blue berries trapped inside sea shells, skies falling upon your collarbones Did you really believe that the weight of this world could shatter you? You carry butterflies inside your stomach You love like tomorrow is but a fable Tell me, do you not shudder when you think of the end?

20.

When I look back, I realize that there is no sorrow, no regret and absolutely no contempt to hold against my past. I see myself growing into someone I will be proud of once this phase has passed and with this I realize how life is made up of these little fragments that are so

Privilege

The sight of a bird looking down upon the travelers lost on the road, that is what my vision can capture The crisp white bed sheets adorning my bed are smoother than the lines upon their young faces The sun shines in my part of the world so that my hair gets rid of the

Far Away

Grey furniture in a room full of colorful walls Black being the most significant constant I look at the skies like a naked painting organizing itself by evening, With the last stroke of the sunlight I watch my sins flutter upon valleys with foreign names My body parts morph into my mind I am my

Life

Isn’t it strange how we don’t even notice the moon go down on her knees and the sun coming up with its golden stories that the birds chirp across trees and windows and balconies? Isn’t it strange how some flowers bloom today and some wither away simply because it’s not their season? Maybe this strangeness

A Sigh of Freedom

The distance is a mist eddying upon my thighs She plays the lyre that resembles eternity Grapes have been growing around my wrists My feet taste like oranges swallowed by the steps they take The portrait of a holy tomb stares at me I feel my shoulders turn into minarets My stomach morphs into a