I am a plant in a garden that claims to nurture everyone.
Its soil is warm and inviting, until there’s a plant deemed
invasive
exotic
or hard to maintain.
There are some gardeners who preach acceptance and love,
yet water only the beds of flowers that are
white, blond, and the color of a spray tan.
They spray pepper-scented death across plants with full rights to be there.
How many times do roots have to be destroyed before they stop reaching out?
How many lives must be ended before we give up
because
the only way to survive
is
white, blond, and the color of a spray tan?
These gardeners rip out roots,
destroy newly formed connections,
and block the sunlight from anything they deem
out
of
place.
No flower is beautiful unless it is
white, blond, and the color of a spray tan.
Add a few preservatives,
a splash of artificial coloring,
and only then are we deemed
worthy.
White, blond, and the color of a spray tan.
When will these color-blind gardeners learn
that there is not just black and white,
But so many shades of brown?
Jan 15
Jan 15, 2026 at 10:06 AM UTC
The clock is ticking.
I reached for adulthood like a prize;
A shiny, golden trophy that could fix all my problems
I reached for it -
Fell on my face, knees scraping the cold floor.
I reached again -
I got a little closer
The clock is ticking.
I'm halfway up the ladder to adulthood.
The prize no longer looks so beautiful
The box of crayons my friends used to color with,
waxy and bright,
has become a brightly colored box of vapes,
their desperate attempt at sanity.
and I climb,
helplessly,
because the older I get,
the more that I realize
that there is nowhere to go but up.
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 10:35 AM UTC
"It was my fault,"
the short skirt said.
"No, it was mine,"
replied the princess tights.
The diaper was trembling with sobs
and the onesie in the corner
frozen
couldn't even speak.
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 9:46 AM UTC
Knives cut deeper
when they have your
fingerprints
on the handle
and
scratches bleed longer
when my DNA
is under your
fingernails
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 9:22 AM UTC
The lights in my ribcage burned out years ago.
Now, I wander through empty halls
in darkness,
my only company
the echoes of my own racing thoughts.
The windows are nailed shut with
old fears
and I lie in bed so much that
dust
coats the floorboards of my spine.
Oct 29, 2025
Oct 29, 2025 at 1:37 PM UTC
It sits in the chair I left empty,
whispering words I
try
not to hear.
Sometimes it tells me
everything
that is wrong with me,
like a hiss
that wraps around my ribs.
Sometimes it roars out of my mouth,
a scream that tastes like metal
but only
when I am alone.
Its claws scar the curvature of my mind,
and I can feel its breath
in the hollow of my chest.
Even the silence carries its voice,
persistent and endless,
a weight I cannot set down.
Oct 28, 2025
Oct 28, 2025 at 9:18 AM UTC
If I could edit time,
I’d unravel the hours
like paper
on the frayed edges of memory.
I’d trace a hollow space
within the seconds;
I’d fold myself in half
and let the echoes go quiet.
Because the seconds march in time
with the pounding of my heart,
slamming against the cold bars of my ribs.
And if my heart beats any faster
My carefully built walls
will crumble
And I’ll come undone,
a tornado of screaming echoes
with nowhere left to rest;
and the clock is still ticking,
ticking on through the silence
that is left behind.
Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 1:02 PM UTC
I am a candle on the table,
burning for everyone but
myself.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 8:35 AM UTC
One.
Two.
Three.
There’s nothing
but a downwards
whirlwind
beneath me.
The
numbers
are meant to make the
whirlwind
go away.
But
numbers
are the edge
of the cliff
I’m hanging on to.
Eventually the
numbers
make my fingers
go
numb.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC