The stars here are so much brighter.

Unraveling.

They found my sister floating with the leaves. My mother did not weep.

Funny how coming out makes straight kids want to touch you.

A collage poem using phrases from Lisey's Story, Total Recall: How to Boost Your Memory Power, and The Silence of the Lambs.

erasure poem from vanity fair. comfort in my own skin and sexuality doesn't come for years. before it does, it builds in my abdomen like a time bomb.

The zombie apocalypse story I didn't want to write. This is the barest shell of an eventual saga, but watch out for sensitive subjects. Rape, homophobia, consent issues, and the fear of being completely alone.

Prompt poem. Something to get through writer's block.

The never-to-be prince. (Makes clear mention of a stillborn child in the context of a dream sequence and borrows a line from Lady Macbeth's famous sleepwalking scene. Feedback would be lovely if you have the time.)

Ever been to the mall at Christmastime?

Implied cannibalism.

I feel like a child. I don't use words lightly, but I'd like to.

i'm always buying more words to stick on the door.

they both cried at the ultrasound. he folded up her favorite yellow cotton patch quilt when they got home and packed it into the bag.

Having the kind of achy love that sweats under your skin, but keeping it to yourself.

Dark, dark piece. She is not Daddy's little girl. This is not remotely like a fairy tale. Trigger warnings all over the place.

the world ended years ago and no one told you. you go on caring. unrelated haiku. i store my poetry in a box and have no place to hide it from you.

Her mind began to rot at sixteen. She did not want to know why.

and always.

You said you hated coffin bones.

Meet Ryan, a high school kid whose most reliable companions are imaginary friends and personified beer bottles. Not tough enough or focused enough for his abusive father, he's sent to a mental hospital where he meets Andrew, the unholy golden boy counsellor, Damian, his unhinged roommate, Richard, an anorexic troublemaker, and Doctor Quard, who doesn't listen to a word they say.

In her mouth my name was sharp, and cruel, and I never asked her to use it. Sestina.

Relatively light ode for a class.

I found my religion again in a poem I've read a thousand times. I choke on what it means to be gay. Rated for language.

All things stop short. Possible trigger warning.

piece for a class. pov of an inanimate object.

my lips are smaller than yours.

assume i don't know how to say no.

the milestones of me and saint peter.

you are part of the scene. it's beating in my veins, and i'll take it into consideration, but i won't listen to you just yet. only in this room. only here. don't forget that.

don't be fooled, you won't learn anything from me.

these days i crack my spine like i'm turning to stone and do homework to avoid texting. i don't like my poetry class but i take my architecture notes in free verse.

the label says non-drowsy, but look at me with my time running out and my life-line shrinking faster than alice.

you're a lot better looking now, but the mirror'll stay cracked anyway.

you correct me, but i just shrug.

i don't know if you watch morning talk shows. if you do, this isn't it.

especially since i really don't know how to bear it. i have a lot of fantasies and i don't write them all down.

i'm not bright enough on my own, up at four in the morning because i don't sleep until i break my mind open.

for the sake of brushing hands or being lovers.

your whole body starts to look like america, but i won't be your england.

you hear a word and you repeat it, no matter what it means.

of someone i no longer miss. here's to the freedom to do whatever you can't.

the afternoon. the night.

at night i know i am only a small soul in an average body.

i don’t want you to wish you were me anymore. we overdosed on your jealousy, saying: you could have had me. if you wanted me.

you are not judged by god. you are not judged by god for this.

just admiring. nothing more.

i am the london bridge. there are not words to describe you.

my mind's made up like a porcelain doll

bones become letters in envelopes, stamped and sent the day you leave.