Poetry

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August 2015

April 2015

Being Human

Poetry|

It's incredibly raw to be inside this body, my skin and it's inner cohorts. It might seem strange to mention this particular sensation, not sedation, the carousel of pinpricks under my skin, streaks of heat then shivers, and an unusual sense of treacle, sweetness that pours to the minuscule ends of my capillaries. To live, [...]

Transformation

Poetry|

There are days so much of me screams No. Usually I'm lost in a sea of fatigue, tired, hyped up in the drama and chaos of life that's not inherently dramatic or chaotic, it just happens, and then we choose to label it some way. I scream No, sometimes literally, often on the inside, a [...]

I Am Not My History

Poetry|

History does not weigh on my shoulders, for all that matters is where the hands on the clock wave now and really, clocks always smile, knowing presence is beautiful like lavender, for some an acquired scent, though if all the world knew they could inhale beauty, there would be less Prozac, more love, less war, [...]