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I awoke this morning in a warm room with hydrostatic thoughts diffusing with the early drip-tension of sunlight. Muscles sore, body slow, I maneuvered through some basic intuitive limbering, stretching the body to fill up the soul, heart, and mind. That was my intention; but then, I didn't really have an initial value for the day, for these chain...

~ “Think of yourself as dead. You have lived your life. Now, take what's left and live it properly. What doesn't transmit light creates its own darkness.” ― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations ~ I looked back and saw kindergarten Memories playing vividly in my head Halfway done they said and I asked "Didn't life start just yesterday?" I wonder if it...

thousands of miles from where my name means something in a city where no one knows me— it still feels like home. not the warm kind. not the kind with open arms and someone waiting at the door. the quieter kind. the colder kind. the kind i’ve known for as long as i can remember. i’ve always known loneliness. it was never loud. just steady. like...

Shackles cast of steel Held by ball and chain Heaving with my shame A pretense of a shield Stench of failure, unclean Decay chanting its creed Encased, the coffin is sealed I claw and try to scream To demons I forcibly kneel Fraying and tearing at seams Body bitter and maimed “Spare yourself and yield” “No!” Shouts a soul...

the dots are slowly disconnecting I can see it coming now the register jams more often did I do that and why...or how? 'yes, you told me that remember...? but it's okay everything is fine' the signs are now clear this creeping fear the foggy mist of my decline the familiar sound of the 2 o'clock train snaps me out of my hazy state I move to the...

They call her a voice of brown pain, But we’ve heard louder cries, from fields soaked in sacrifice, from mothers who buried sons, not metaphors. They sold us short, for lowercase lines and over-capitalized lies— as if formatting could mask the absence of truth. She speaks of lands she never walked, names wounds she never bore, calls for borders...

I keep a spine that bends toward fairness, and every time I straighten it, the doorway shrinks. "your disrespect borders apathy" dictations of trouble scribbled into me. In truth, I notice the weight placed on backs already tired, the hours that leak past daylight, the pay that never learns to grow. So I’m released again— another quiet box for...