May 03
poem challenge: Roe v. Wade

My Body, My Choice

You do not have a right
to anything on this flesh-colored landscape
of sheer beauty 
that is my body.
I have worked so hard
to learn to love myself
to learn how to be okay with my body
to learn that I am beautiful in my own way;
not in the way where
I have a slim waist
              perfectly straight hair
              heart-shaped lips that anyone would want to kiss
because isn't that what beauty is-
packaged perfection that expires
once you get ahold of it?
I love every inch of myself
I claim every inch of myself as my own
and no one else's.

I am not a plastic doll
I am not meant to be used as a toy
I am not going to be a jar of porcelain to anyone-
beautiful to look at,
fragile to the touch, 
doesn't do too much
other than stay silent and 
let others gawk and talk about 
as if it's not there. 

I have a right to myself
Apr 21

I Am Not Scared About Writing This

I'm taking a break from my normal writing of poetry and drawings of songs, because as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, I belive that it is my right and responsability to talk about something very close to my heart that someone I know has brought to my attention.

This is not okay. Nothing anyone can tell me will make me say that this is okay.

I am gender-fluid. While I have a female body, I still feel like a boy most of the time. I am scared for some of my friends who identify as gender-fluid, non-binary, and especially transgender. 

While the topic of healthcare for transgender people has become a heavy debate over the last few years, that doesn't prevent it from spreading. Who knows where the unacceptance of trans youth will go next?
Apr 12

synesthetic art #4

Mar 28


Mar 17

Synesthetic art #3

Mar 16

synesthetic art #2

Mar 15

synesthetic art

Mar 14
poem challenge: My Generation


it was easier
when we were kids
dealing with scabbed knees
instead of scarred wrists
eating paste instead of 
inhaling it 
writing with pens instead of 
pretending to be normal and 
vaping with fake ones

it was easier 
when we were kids
we didn't care about politics
or global warming
or gun violence
or the future;
we thought our lives would
forever be solidified in 
sticky summer sweat and
graham cracker crumbs
drenched in apple juice
stuck to sand-covered fingers
from the hours we spent in the sandbox
forming worlds in which we could pretend-
who would've thought 
we'd want to escape reality 
so much more 
years later?

it was easier
when we were kids
not a care in the world because
the world didn't care for us
we didn't obsess over numbers on our Instagram posts
we didn't obsess over texts from people we hated