Loose

I’m loosing the notion that love has to be grandiose.That it moves in broad gestures and flitting grinsand the sweeping magic of surprises.I’m unclenching my fists from the hem of hope’s skirts,letting myself slide back down toward earth,stopping my saddling of clouds andthe promise I might find hidden in a breathcaught.  I’m unraveling the apron … More Loose

Panic

Everything will work out in the end. It’s just—what if it doesn’t work out anything like how I imagined it would?

Self-Worth

I wish I could feel self-worth.  I feel valueless.  I feel like a disconnected cloud of pieces and parts that are here to be taken and used.  I can’t quite connect to the notion that someone may genuinely, really love me, without ulterior motive or aim.  But then I feel it and I have to … More Self-Worth

Internalized

I internalize everything. Every ounce of the stress and anxiety around me goes straight to my soul.  I take every reaction and every offhanded mention as truth.  I pull every ounce of upset around me up on my shoulders and I bear it.  I assume that it’s all my fault, anyway. I deserve punishment. When … More Internalized

Apart

The marks you left are already fading, faint yellow traces of our clutching and writhing.  As I step into the shower, the scent of you washes down my face and I inhale the very last bit of you before it can be replaced with distance.  I smile as I discover little hairs and crumbles of … More Apart

2007: Tripping

            Red lights snaking, sashaying in a curious sort of S-shape along the parched black pavement, everything ahead looked like glowing embers on the asphalt’s dying fires.  The sky was a rainbow of dusk, from reds to oranges and greens and the bluest of blues overhead, peppered with stars.  The sun was in its last … More 2007: Tripping

Fever

My head feels like I’ve been skullfucked, and all I want is human warmth.Here, in limbo, I wait, with no shelter from feral lies and glowering.There is just the sound of my own breathing, ragged, wracked with chills,in terrible harmony with the sound that drifts through the papery walls.I’m dressed in a cold that I … More Fever

2007: Whiplash

I write about sex as if it’s something beautiful, but it’s not.  It’s two bodies smashing together, doused in sweat and unmet expectations.  There is nothing beautiful about lying under someone who is rocking back and forth to some foreign beat as you dig and claw into their flesh to try to bring them back … More 2007: Whiplash