• Transformation

    Much respect to bell hooks, but she has it wrong. At it’s core, aren’t love’s extremes are a violent vortex of peace and of passion? Violent emotions that exist perfectly balanced in the chaos of paradox. Violence that makes us act irrationally – willing to give up our lives to protect those we love or…

    Read more →

  • Universe just us two

    It had never been phrased to her like that before. That the act of creating a story for someone was creating a universe. An act more intimate than sharing physical space. Was she reckless with her gifts? Or was her gift to create infinite galaxies for those who occupied her nebula for a period of…

    Read more →

  • Down the hole

    His mind worked like no other she had seen before. For years, conversations flowed from discussions of existentialism in one breath to Dr. Seuss in the next. His love notes were Wikipedia articles on math theorems because he knew how much she loved reading them. She was the poet and he was the thinker. A…

    Read more →

  • Taken

    The instagram post said “try not to think of how desperately you need to be taken, bound and fucked right now.” But I couldn’t stop. I had to face my desire that I wanted him to take it from me. I wanted to just feel him come up behind me and stick two fingers inside…

    Read more →

  • Always be fuckabke

    I saw it in a book. Always be fuckable because you just never know. Checking myself to see am I ready externally. Is my hair done? Do I smell nice? Are my legs shaved and my feet soft? But I realized that the most important work is inside. Am I always fuckable on the inside?…

    Read more →

  • Forbidden

    The first time I saw you, I knew I was with the wrong friend. Your smile set my pussy on fire.  The smile that was so rare, it was always radiant. And yet, it was too complicated, too messy to be with you Despite all the time I spent alone with you. Despite the fantasy…

    Read more →

  • Used to be

    I used to be a poet Until I fell in love I used to be a poet And dream about putting you into haikus Singing sonnets about your smiles Iambic pentameter about your interactive love and rhymes I used to be a poet And use the colors of the rainbow to describe you Your skin…

    Read more →

  • Comment

    Mmmmm, memories…polaroid pussy that you stick on the cork board of your head that never, ever lives up to the real thing…even in digital format…nothing in the archive compares to that first feeling of that wet, warm love below (yes, I have been pumpin that Outkast shit “Shhhheee lives in my laaap” anyway…) I am…

    Read more →

  • Timing is everything

    He couldn’t have known that when he sent me the text that I had my hand on my thigh and the his touch on my mind. As the sound of D’Angelo’s How Does It Feel faded on the video and Floetry’s Say Yes came on I traced my finger with thoughts of him. How I…

    Read more →

  • The Poet

    He made me return to writing poetry. When we talked, it wasn’t violins that played, but sonnets that whispered on his lips. I could feel the letters moving in my heart, not yet taking shape but there, waiting to be released. He had been everything I asked for. And yet… We were here. Letters, locked.…

    Read more →