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Our love is far from
a red, red rose--
our hands stained
in crimson from thorns
that appeared more elegant
to hang onto than the petals.

The birdcage within my chest
contained fluttering wings
that were clipped by the lack
of nourishment we both fed
each other 
when the our connection
once hatched.

The birds forgot
the beats that 
made them sing
in the first place

-illustration/words from Tangled Up in Light


We are born
with a mind
so fragile-- 
the most delicate
of flowers could not
mimic the fragrance of
the chemical spills
held within.

We see with 
a mouth sewn shut--
the visions taste flavorless,
but the sounds feel delicious
echoing inside the ears...

-illustration/words from In Your Head​​​​​​​


trafficking humanism through artistic platforms