Posts
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Two Birds and No Stone
Don’t kill my birds.
Tommy pays taxes.
April runs a side hustle selling cursed bath bombs on Etsy.
They have dreams.
They have a 401k.
They just bought a tiny house in a haunted forest
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I Fell in Love With a Pigeon
He flew into my life on a Tuesday.
All feathers, no job.
Smelled like breadcrumbs and bad decisions.
He coo’d at me like I was the last French fry in a drive-thru bag.
And I believed him.
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Tired.
I’m tired.
Not “need-a-nap” tired.
Not “school-was-long” tired.
I’m tired in a way that reaches all the way down to my ribs.
I don’t sleep much anymore.
I stay up listening.
Not for music.
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Thin Walls
The house breathes heavy.
Shadows louder than footsteps.
A slammed door echoes like thunder,
but we pretend it’s just the wind again.
Dinner gets cold while silence sits warm.
Mama stirs her coffee like nothing’s wrong. -
What They Call Ghetto, We Call Home
They call it “the hood.”
We call it family.
They call it “ghetto.”
We call it culture.
It’s loud — but it’s home.
The ice cream truck rings at the same time every day.
Loves
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Asexuality
In a community of acceptance,
there is a lack of understanding
for the A
in LGBTQIA.
It’s easier to point fingers
than interlock fingers
or tap fingers to chins,
thinking,