Arts and Creative

They are his, his, his just like I am still his, his, his.

"I can still hear her faint cries. Will she be okay?"

You never told me how hard it would be, Barbie, to stop things once they’ve started.

Attempts to unfasten her mouth expose remains of her flesh, bound together.

let the rope on my neck be this current's tether strung through fertile tides curled in tempest air of anxiety…

"somewhere, in the encumbered air before me is a pair of eyes they mount no body, but I know they…

We are all borne of each other from the pulsating womb that is mother’s land —

the language eroded in my mouth/and i swallowed dust.

I let the silence boil as I pick mismatched graphic tees off of colorful plastic hangers, imagining this is a…

Im going to spoil.