You told me that a tiger’s stripes didn’t make him a tiger. It was his ability to hunt and the weaknesses of his prey that make him king. I have heard the word “fuck” come out of your mouth like it was beautiful and you wanted to savor it and roll it around before spitting … More Prey
We lead ourselves Love ourselves and Etch artwork into our skin That is supposed to remind us of when we were happy But we don’t know ourselves In the pursuit of ourselves And we either believe in ourselves Or believe in something else. We look at ourselves with disgust but Tell everyone how we really … More The World
I have been living in the farthest corners of my imagination since before I would think to lay eyes or fingertips on you. I have stared at artwork that begs me to keep dreaming even though I have forgotten what the nip of cold air feels like four thousand miles away from my bed sheets … More Painted Shadows
When I became pregnant with Wesley, I worried that I would potentially suffer from postpartum depression. I worried about this because I have spoken to therapists in the past who told me that yes, I do have anxiety, but yes, there are healthy ways to cope with it. When Wesley was born, I was over … More Postpartum Anything
I would say that I am a flightless bird, but there was that one time that I had wingsand I still have thembut honestlybetween the move and the demons that reared their ugly heads into my safe spacethey’re probably shoved in a drawer somewhere,inside the dresser I painted because I thought I was an artist … More The Truth About Artists
I see you in the little voids I will never be able to fill. Everything screams you were wrongbut so was I and I want so badly to forget who we were and forget that clocks exist. I feel you in between the moments of resting and wakingbut there are things I will never tell … More Little Things.
I watched you out of the corner of my eye Slipping poison down your throat Scratching lies into the walls of our parents’ house Until our Mother fell broken and my Father’s heart skipped one more time than he could take. I saw you smile at yourself and the destruction that lie before you And … More Sister Devil
My edges are too hardSo I make myself smallerI curl my legs into my chest and listen to my body tell me to stop being so fullstop breathing so loudstop feeling so muchlet all of the nerves separate and burn awayuntil everything is under a pile of ash. You touch me silently with nothing on your … More
Okay, so, it’s not quite THE END. Here’s the story: When Wesley was born, breastfeeding came naturally. Sure, I had a few hurdles to jump over, but I got through them easily and I comfortably slid into the role of “breastfeeding mama.” (Shoutout to my amazing lactation consultant at the hospital!) My body has been … More When the Journey comes to an end?
My brother is an addict. When I was in high school, he lived with us in our mid-sized, split level home tucked away in a cozy cul-de-sac. I remember my mom begging him to stop, I remember police officers knocking on our door, I remember finding needles in his room while looking for good CD’s … More Plagues