Quinn never expected to become famous.

He was just someone who wanted to make art for himself, masterpieces that he could step back and admire. He knew it was selfish, he knew it was, but still, he couldn't stop. And he didn't stop when he got his first book deal, when he got his first apartment (or at least one that was one in good enough condition to live in comfortably), and when he had his first kiss with a...

I had always wanted to be many things. Teaching had crossed my mind many times, as had interior designing, working for the CIA, being a politician, coding for NASA, and curating a museum. But one thing had always stayed at the top of my list since I was young. Acting.

It had always just been a fantasy though. Sure fame and luxury had appealed to me at a young age, though I also loved storytelling. Writing, reading, watching movies, and...

there's a war going on out there 
and none of us are fighting, at least 
not between twinned flesh and blood, 
silver and bullets. 

it's a fight made up of words, of which 
we do not understand. they are 
half-filled, or at the least, a quarter-filled. 
we tangle our tongues in between kisses 
sweet nothings. 

they go numb when your beloved flips the 
channel from CNN to Fox and Friends, 
and are barred with a setfull of twenty-two 
ivory sickles,...

rain drips from century-old brick
ink draws the lines
in my daintily weathered hands
jewels are icy on my collarbones
floating flowers
striking in my gray, tepid tea
pianos and violins
refract on high ceiling murals
down these halls and 
into my flailing thoughts
paper crackles under string
on the fragile foot of my messenger
treason through the watering blue eyes
of the real caged one
petal perfume on my fingertips 
he loves me
he loves me not
for i...

One of my grandma's first memories is of huddling under a bomb shelter in London during the Blitz. Surprisingly, it wasn't a traumatic experience. Being an innocent, bright-eyed, three-year-old caught up in the horrors of humanity’s mechanized abstractions, she garnered a lot of sympathy. When the loud noises started, the adults would give her candy, sing her songs, tell her stories. It’s amazing how under the right circumstances bombs can become associated with bon-bons.

I don’t mean to trivialize the...

numbness strips me down until i am nothing but a blank canvas.


i wait for emotion to strike the horsehair tips of its


brush upon my face and paint on the day's expression. 


it will never come, unless i truly want to feel 

again. 

If I die before I wake,
And if my soul you did forsake,
I will crumble into ash
Faster than your words can lash.
 
But this won’t be them end of me,
For I’m reborn, don’t you see.
And from the ash, I will rise
Full of fire and phoenix cries.
 
I’ll be free, and you will stay
And like the moon, at me you’ll bay.
But I’ll be flying up so high
That nothing will reach me,...

My town is a Victorian woman who has lost her virginity, trying to hide her bloody underwear. The girlish lilac so many houses are slathered in feels off, like rough on already flushed cheeks. 

There is a man with a brass pocket watch who conducts a tour of all the haunted mansions and sewers, after an hour he sends the tourists off for pizza and cheap souvenirs. But we’re still living here, paying way too much in rent.

I have...

    Everyday at school, I looked around and saw girls sporting jeans, hoodies, and cropped tops. Now, I see much of the same, only any other signs of physical self-expression is further hidden behind masks. At thirteen, living in a world where trendiness is synonymous with popularity, I have learned that not everyone will like me. However, what matters far more to me now is who likes me. And, more importantly, whether I like myself. Since I was younger, I've always...

all our lives, we have just nearly missed each other.
tormented by loneliness in this world that will smother-
hopes, and dreams, the life in our hearts,
i feel this way, darling, because we’ve been apart.
we both lived on R street, the same year, the same time,
just seconds away yet so far from being mine.
we brushed paths again, the same zip code, and time slowed-
when i realized, again, that it’s just a few roads.
Just some...

Quinn never expected to become famous.

He was just someone who wanted to make art for himself, masterpieces that he could step back and admire. He knew it was selfish, he knew it was, but still, he couldn't stop. And he didn't stop when he got his first book deal, when he got his first apartment (or at least one that was one in good enough condition to live in comfortably), and when he had his first kiss with a...

I had always wanted to be many things. Teaching had crossed my mind many times, as had interior designing, working for the CIA, being a politician, coding for NASA, and curating a museum. But one thing had always stayed at the top of my list since I was young. Acting.

It had always just been a fantasy though. Sure fame and luxury had appealed to me at a young age, though I also loved storytelling. Writing, reading, watching movies, and...

there's a war going on out there 
and none of us are fighting, at least 
not between twinned flesh and blood, 
silver and bullets. 

it's a fight made up of words, of which 
we do not understand. they are 
half-filled, or at the least, a quarter-filled. 
we tangle our tongues in between kisses 
sweet nothings. 

they go numb when your beloved flips the 
channel from CNN to Fox and Friends, 
and are barred with a setfull of twenty-two 
ivory sickles,...

rain drips from century-old brick
ink draws the lines
in my daintily weathered hands
jewels are icy on my collarbones
floating flowers
striking in my gray, tepid tea
pianos and violins
refract on high ceiling murals
down these halls and 
into my flailing thoughts
paper crackles under string
on the fragile foot of my messenger
treason through the watering blue eyes
of the real caged one
petal perfume on my fingertips 
he loves me
he loves me not
for i...

One of my grandma's first memories is of huddling under a bomb shelter in London during the Blitz. Surprisingly, it wasn't a traumatic experience. Being an innocent, bright-eyed, three-year-old caught up in the horrors of humanity’s mechanized abstractions, she garnered a lot of sympathy. When the loud noises started, the adults would give her candy, sing her songs, tell her stories. It’s amazing how under the right circumstances bombs can become associated with bon-bons.

I don’t mean to trivialize the...

numbness strips me down until i am nothing but a blank canvas.


i wait for emotion to strike the horsehair tips of its


brush upon my face and paint on the day's expression. 


it will never come, unless i truly want to feel 

again. 

My town is a Victorian woman who has lost her virginity, trying to hide her bloody underwear. The girlish lilac so many houses are slathered in feels off, like rough on already flushed cheeks. 

There is a man with a brass pocket watch who conducts a tour of all the haunted mansions and sewers, after an hour he sends the tourists off for pizza and cheap souvenirs. But we’re still living here, paying way too much in rent.

I have...

    Everyday at school, I looked around and saw girls sporting jeans, hoodies, and cropped tops. Now, I see much of the same, only any other signs of physical self-expression is further hidden behind masks. At thirteen, living in a world where trendiness is synonymous with popularity, I have learned that not everyone will like me. However, what matters far more to me now is who likes me. And, more importantly, whether I like myself. Since I was younger, I've always...

He stands in the dark
Alone, abandoned, waiting 
But nobody comes

The moon shines on him
Brilliant, bright, unforgiving
Wasting its light on --

Shadow. A shadow.
Shunned and rejected by man
Abandoned by fate 

He opens his mouth
No sound comes -- his throat is dry
Then he speaks -- three words:
 
"Lord, help me" he cries
Alone, abandoned, waiting
And Somebody comes--

He stood on the platform, suit wrinkled, foot tapping, hand running through hair, checking his watch -- waiting for a train that would never come.