I think poetry is what comes out of the bits inside of you who don’t know how to cry except through syllables.
Being a self published author is a bit like being a whore. You work long, hard nights, sometimes unprotected (from the distraction of social media). You wonder when the disease of writer’s block will hit you, if it hasn’t already, stifling any other books you may or may not have left in you – you […]
I want you inside me because I want to remember what living feels like right before you die What I think it must feel like to forget everything and everyone that ever made you think anything and be solely focused on a pulsing white light that you didn’t even realize you were reaching for, opening […]