The Toolkit and First Aid Kit – A Poem

It seems that the more I draw, the more I sketch the sensations that arise from riding this emotional rollercoaster, the more I realise that hands and faces, cannot heal me anymore than my attempts to disfigure the same hands and faces. Self-destruction presents itself in these sketches, and also in starvation, compensation, self-deprecation. It… Continue reading The Toolkit and First Aid Kit – A Poem

These Are Not Flotsam and Jetsam Thoughts – A Poem

These are not flotsam and jetsam thoughts, they do not ebb and flow, they are as constant as the stars and the universe, expanding and contracting like the breath. Tides cannot be turned off, and neither can the tsunami of negativity that swamps me surreptitiously. Caress me Death, I welcome thee, with open arms and… Continue reading These Are Not Flotsam and Jetsam Thoughts – A Poem

Bearing My Battle Scars Before I Am Ready

Aside from running an Etsy store, tutoring high school students, and pouring my heart out on this website, I also work in a bakery. Which requires me to wear short sleeves. I have scars. They are battle scars. Some people don't like to call them such, but I'm fighting a hard fucking battle, it's given… Continue reading Bearing My Battle Scars Before I Am Ready

The Dangers of Numbers

I’m good with numbers. In fact, I like to think I’m pretty exceptional when it comes to working with numbers. My mental arithmetic is pretty on point, which comes in handy at my IRL paying jobs: running an Etsy store, working at a bakery, and tutoring high school students. It definitely speeds up the cash… Continue reading The Dangers of Numbers

An Untitled Poem

Why is it that getting dressed Causes me so much distress? And dresses with pockets are rarer Than any form of self-instigated self-care? Dried blood on my wrists and on my thighs Like a burgundy tattoo that gives me a high. Not to look at, but to feel the pain; This refuge from hurt, is… Continue reading An Untitled Poem

Icarus and the Phoenix – A Poem

I am plummeting, an Icarus without sacred plumage, nor the beauty of a soft dusting of undergrowth, to break my fall. Each time I rise, I am a phoenix, but even phoenixes will finally die. Being engulfed in agony, where I seek shelter, and comfort, and safety, and learn to decorate pain, like A.W. Toad… Continue reading Icarus and the Phoenix – A Poem

Philosophical Bathroom Stalls

"I smoke to get high, because the world is so low" During a lovely catch up over coffee with a wonderful friend, I went to use the bathroom. Now, most public bathrooms have graffiitied doors. It's generally not very nice graffiti, including a lot of expletives, phone numbers and doodles of doodles. This bathroom however,… Continue reading Philosophical Bathroom Stalls