Those nights when poetry was only a verb, and silence its master.Read More
"I'm this close to living a life alone filled with hate" you said.
And I am close to living a life without living.Read More
The storm is coming, and I have been waiting for it all my life. And life has waited too.Read More
you can hear the poets break their pencils in the nights,
while trying to capture the metaphors that flutter
into their nets of perfectly woven vowels,
an echo of humanity's last attempts at beautyRead More
My words from the past few months, naked and vulnerable. I burned it all to the ground and arose as a phoenix. And the burning was my favorite part.Read More
Let no man ever again lie face down in the dust
because of men we all should trust, while we record it on our phones in disgust
afraid to call out unjust...