My inner life is nothing but fragments, shards of glass, funhouse mirrors. I’ll tell you in a letter what I want you to hear, what I wish were the facts. The facts. How different than truth, truth is in the mouth of the teller, the mind of the beholder, truth is flesh. Facts are stone. Alas, I a split between… Continue reading plath ressurect
I was born into a home in which none of the surviving generations understood it's own name. foundations set with quicksand, doors rotating whichever had the least holes punched into the frame. living there was dangerous, when not one of the members learned how to swim, from struggling to keep my head above water to… Continue reading riptides
."My day to day life is this tumultuous battle against my very self. And regardless of however poetically I could ever piece this together, even if I were clinical or more narrative it is almost a total waste, a dead end."
where are my words?
count up your regrets, how much hope are you left with?
hi, my name is..