I feel like sometimes I have these stories floating inside me, like worms trapped in my stomach eating at my insides. Parasites resting in my brain between the grey-pink folds of me. Most of the time I barely care, like an old oak being strangled by ivy, I hardly notice the infestation. I engulf myself … Continue reading Why Don’t You Write Anymore?
am I too needy were you too mean do you not love me, now that I’m not so clean. not shiny and new holding second-hand truths don’t say that it’s me when its all about You. having I gotten familiar do my lips taste the same Are you thinking of her or have I gone … Continue reading Someone Else’s Insecurities