Casting calls for every romantic and platonic blunder, a lead role in my catastrophic, paranoia adventure. My head is aching, the visuals are fading, The buttery treat unheated on a plate inside a room that is doused with bleach. "I'll never eat again!" she cries, as the shutter releases, and she stuffs the hanging half back » Continue Reading
Using a printed reflection as the soundboard for all the disarray in a life that isn’t worth leading The pages from books briefly opened are wilting. Taking the tests has shown that dirt beneath blades of grass have more of a purpose. Are you a girl or something stronger to pencil in a worthy check mark? All her inside » Continue Reading
Dial tone in my brain, everything is without color. The droning, a sound not too foreign to that of pending disaster. Frames stuffed into drawers, encased with evidence of a past. A girl without control, a woman without navigation. Excuses carved into the bed frame...what bed frame? It's just a mattress on top communal flooring. » Continue Reading
I've been called stupid for quite some time now. It's been written on chalkboards, disclosed in love letters, found in etches across my face and arms. A child liar sits at the mouth of the tub. Shoulders sunk over, leveled now with a similar face, aged fully in her own stories of adjusted nonfiction. » Continue Reading
The music is now off. Eyes that burn from dried saltwater, no longer can look up. Up at the ceiling that holds no light. I scratch an overused tear duct once, maybe twice. The musk smell in the kitchen floods into the bathroom, heightens the awareness of temporary, a man's tolerance for stupidity » Continue Reading
Eyes dull. Stomach full from the excess of last night's soul. She attempts to avoid skin touching the chill of the floor. It isn't long before she sentences herself to thirty more hours. A self prescribed bed ridden existence. » Continue Reading
Making acrylic splatters, colorful and vivid. Video footage of a pretty, blonde girl hugging a canvas to her chest. Etches and scribbles on the inside of your arm, inherently provokes the off switch. Curtains drawn. No one has time for » Continue Reading
In dreams you can't avoid me. I can have a conversation without skipping right to the ending. Where you look at me despairingly, with those stupid spheres of moon dust. Most of my shit sits here, still collecting dust. I could » Continue Reading