I see them now, dancing on my eyelashes, taunting me. Memories running loose along my skin, just out of reach. I manage to coax them to my fingertips, pen in hand.

There are no storms here, just the steady stream flowing from the gutter and the soft rythm of gentle rain. I used to dream of this place, this lullaby from the sky. I've escaped the violence of storms. Found shelter from the dry, soulless winds and th...

I've decided to come out to myself. Being trans is such a personal experience.

The flowers between north and south grow unguarded below the bridge. I picture a broken body among them sometimes. A body slowly fading back into the soil. The grasses will soon be high enough to hide the darkest of secrets. Some bodies are meant to fa...

The wolves have my scent, they can smell the blood in the air. I can only sleep light and short, to listen for the howling and tend to my wounds. The bleeding never stops, it flows out black because of the rot. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of sunlight t...

A cold, dry wind hums a steady tune past my ears and my eyes study the landscape; hues of purple and grey skies, snow topped hills in the distance, lost in a sea of sagebrush. I stare into the wasteland, searching. The dust in the air gently caresses m...