My mother texts twelve times a day I have grown accustomed to texting her twelve times a day and today she has not text me once. I worry...

Morning kisses you on the forehead wide-eyed and wet with renewal and again, the sun winks batters her red lashes and paints you pink and...

THE FALL WAS HER RISE (retelling of The Fall from Eve’s perspective, only in this version, Eve’s awareness of injustice catalyses her...

my eyes   wider      than         when I fell asleep   I dreamt    I was beautiful  no cloth skin to iron with fingertips or gums to suck...

Summer sits at the back of my throat like a cough drop deliquescing Spit soaked, she kisses my molars and I will taste her well into...

I got high on an empty stomach and I’m pouring mounts of honey hoops into my mouth, most missing and tripping down my chest. I pick the...

It is the summer of riots and rumination, and I am feeling uneasy about the political climate of the country. The fascists are feasting...

Sixty-eight thousand words deep, countless characters and plotlines in (possibly several plot holes too), I found myself in the situation...

(A poem adapted into a piece of flash fiction for a Creative Writing workshop) Grief: a universal language, and yet when spoken, nobody...

When you teach a girl that all she is good for is pleasing and playing sweet and nice, she grows into a woman who has not spent one day...

A poem (or stream of erratic consciousness) about my inevitable decline (or doom) and the many, many, many things (or contradictions)...