Writing

sometimes it doesn't make sense

did these women pay attention to the fact that they were non consensually kissed

or did no one else in the kingdom have the same shoe size as cinderella?

I sit with a smile on my lips, my brother—Abu—

beside me as the kettle begins to sing.

Moomins fill the screen, hattifatteners too.

The TV light painting over my blue.  

I’ve had pomegranates twice in my 17 years.

Each time, I was awed at how 

something with such a mysterious foreign air

 could hold so many intricate bursts of joy. 

All I’ve got is the shell:

I always thought it would be like the movies

Beach trips and ice cream

Field trips and cheering on sports teams

Late nights with fairy lights

My first kiss

That feeling of bliss

It’s not

Before you were sick, you were ignorant. For all the words and sentences you had accumulated, your consciousness was blank; unmarked snow covering scarred earth below. Before you were sick, you were cocooned.

"Happy New Year!"

"I got a little lost; can you show me the way?"

"Inauguration day is just around the corner!"

"Welcome to eleventh grade. You're almost out!"

"Hi, my name's what's your name?