Volatile from the start, this pain is all that's left of the tainted love we bought, now you are poison in my heart and I am chaos in your thoughts. One day we were like gardens fragrant from flowers that could only bloom, the next we were as dreary as death row denizens delighted by their impending doom. These inconsistencies that caused our souls to rise, elated, and then fall so low, multiplied and then grew stronger with each offense, with every blow. It was never easy to pretend that we were not condemned, foolish to believe that success could be achieved. We tried too hard, tasted failure many times, made then broke a million promises, became casualties of our own carnal crimes. It was harder to let go than to accept that we were through, since you went away I am no stranger to the blues. Time is such a terrorist, it was supposed to heal all wounds, instead it's left me stranded in a city that your existence has ruined. Every st...
Accident-prone yet bulletproof, resilience courses through my veins. After pulling shrapnel from my own hell-bent self-destruction, all I was left with was me. Through embracing my darkness, I found the light. Here lives a collection of poetry, prose, and reflections on trauma, survival, desire, and becoming.