unpacking violence is much more than an art form, it’s a way of life passed from tongue to teeth to tender limb like an electric shock rattling and shattering, breathing in new life, regurgitating exhaust fumes and stale air, swollen memories of safety and assurance, mixing whole truths with well-intended lies, not the kind you…

it’s a downward slope and we’re marching upstream only violent hands can pull tender memories, wrapping, working around the throat ‘til they rise to the surface choking out a little life even (only) as it fades the obscurity, obsidian gift me lapis lazuli so that we might crack it in half the stench of our…

– for you – Embrace me, and I’m in rapture, singing halleluiah, halleluiah even though I forgot the words a long time ago. In fact, I might have never known the words in the first place, but the melody is sweet, and it’s easy to sing along with words that tumble out of my head and form…

Warning: The following material may be considered triggering for some readers. I still look for you in the shadows. And not just sometimes, but always. When I’m walking up the stairs to my apartment, alone in the dark, I squint into the distance and imagine your silhouette edged against the wall. Trying to blend in.…

My top 10 poems as of 2018