“Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god.” - Charles Bukowski Loving Icarus I’m feeling the air on the thick of my...

First-class lipstick, like satin, gently marking into history sign-offs and signatures, transcending boundaries between land and ocean....

I didn’t get the memo to evolve - stop sticking my hands into the fresh-fire, as if some part of my visceral mania wants to bloody my...

With every resistance, remember – how everything was choked back into your mouth when you were a baby bird and the barricades were not...

One: This is the white-night burst of seven billion voices singing requiem dies irae as mountains fall - desperately breaking...

The Other Truth Clenching my lies within my fists I stand prominent, forcing the pressure of weightlessness onto them until they crack;...

Soft skin, marred, jagged cheekbones cutting into blank white; suffocating plastic sweats against the mouth of the thing. A moth-swarm of...

Take off your hands like a shop window mannequin and give them to me; let me imagine that it’s you sleeping on the other side of the bed....

i can live without my feet. i can live without anything that makes me carry on; carry this pretty sweat of life on my hunched back. every...

i don't think i'm getting better but i'm drinking oat milk again. it's the stuff my parents buy, rich and creamy, and it doesn't have the...

i go through the hollow days until the first drop of alcohol hits my tongue; and then, the choice. the concerned mother, the train-track...

my fingers stutter shattered sentences when i'm like this. when i'm like this, i'm shrink plastic and the world is an oven; or – when i'm...

it's 8pm on a tuesday night and i'm drinking beer in the shower. it's an art form, holding the thin neck like a perfect knot, my fingers...

The hands that are locked inside my body pull at my ribcage. We'll make you an angel, they say, but that means tearing my flesh apart. I...

Sexuality in gothic literature is formed upon the basis of certain archetypes, mainly those of hyper and predatory male sexuality,...

Picture this: you’re eighteen and you just snuck out of your parents’ house. In the midst of whatever teenage rebellion has an iron grip...

What a title, right? I think it's quite fitting to begin my first baby-steps into being an Adult With A Blog by mourning the loss of...