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They throw us to the wolves before we even gasp Our first breath. Carnage straight from the womb a feast of supple fat They use honey to suckle on our pride well, my Dear, this bosom has been milked dry.
Read MoreThey throw us to the wolves before we even gasp Our first breath. Carnage straight from the womb a feast of supple fat They use honey to suckle on our pride well, my Dear, this bosom has been milked dry.
Read MoreSo, here’s to women who live beneath a glass ceiling, lobbing rocks into the abyss and hoping their culmination of cracks will cause its very weight to crumble, allowing a collective sigh of relief.
Read Morea secret meeting gone awry
a supposed cold room turned to a boil
she was filled to the brim with bile
Read MorePublished on February 7, 2018 I would like to super-seed this post with an excerpt from my own personal journal detailing the fear it feels to move to a new city alone. See, I believe we are not little Alcatraz islands, fending buoyancy separately, but each a plot of soil, a sprung lily, or the […]
Read MoreTo crack open.
Like the smile of an addict
Like the smile of an addict
browning since puberty
yellowed by the wear
Of service as an accessory,
Read MoreI hate the sound of my voice.
Those inaudible contractions,
anchored in the wet depth The fracture of bone.
Jealousy is the symptom, not the problem. Discover the roots of your jealousy, uproot them and grasp new soil. We are capable of bloom.
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