you can’t take your eyes off of me. can you? not now not here yes there have been plenty of days {there will always be plenty of days} where I am the forgettable wallflower turning myself almost inside out to keep you from seeing please don’t look but when I...
{this one is for my witches. women of fire and ice. of spells and incantations. of fragile baddassery. of power and beauty. you know who you are. this one is for all of you. for at one point or another, I think you all will be the grace that saves me} bow down...
{this life right now, it leaves me little time to do more than scrawl illegible lines in my journal, or fragments of thoughts on grocery receipts. there are words branding the deepest reaches of my soul – but this is a time for diving, not for surfacing. and...
I don’t believe in -forever- not the version I was sold perfect and pretty and tied with a bow placed (by request) on a pedestal to keep itself safe My forever is fleeting and flawed and humble in its inherent lack of promise it’s not easily subdued nor naive enough...
{on my desk sits a black fabric journal. it is a plain, ordinary, nondescript book. from the outside, it looks as if it could not possibly hold anything important. only I know that it holds the most valuable thing I possess. my story.} 5.22.09 I’m in birthday party...
The creative drive. ‘Tis life force and relentless demon in equal measure. We artistic misfits cram ourselves into a culture is usually centered on new, better, different. What to create that has not yet created? What to do that is better than what has already...
