Being on a 28-day menstrual cycle makes everything nuanced. When the 27th day approaches, I am an emotional mess, my face gets re-aligned, I cry at nothing, my back feels twisted and broken.  By the 28th day, my silk robe is stained, my fingers are … Continue reading

Yes, this fear comes from being bombed in the womb.  Civil War trauma in the womb. Grenade womb. Volcano womb. I blame the womb for everything.  Blaming anything else makes no sense.  That’s the egg.  The beginning.  The rest is a consequence.  This moment is … Continue reading

Tragedy.  I’m always tragic.  My very birth was tragic.  My mother had me standing up, almost killed her. I didn’t, but it always plagues me. So I hold her in my heart and she held me in her belly. Evens out I think. How was … Continue reading

I never wanted children. I never played with dolls; I never coddled them or wanted to take care of them. I cut their hair real short and made them have lesbian sex. I made them have threesomes with other stuffed animals and drape them with … Continue reading

Why do we look like all the great loves? he asks as we fall asleep.   I love this man.   LOVE.   Why must I have an office job instead of being at my grimy soft studio apartment next to the one I love? … Continue reading

Someone should’ve asked me if I wanted to be born. It’s not fair to come out your mother’s belly without a clue, without being able to walk and gather berries. Without having to suckle her breasts for too long before you can suck on some … Continue reading

As I write this, things are not right. As I write this, things are amazing. Things are in flux constantly and I can’t help but feel that they will continue to be until I kill that voice in my head that reminds me that I’m … Continue reading

How many times have you come back around? I feel like I’ve been here enough times to realize that certain people will become some sort of test. Nothing scholarly about it really, just a test of strength and compassion. I wasn’t blessed with a sculpted … Continue reading