Behind The Lens

My ears are ringing. A girl’s crying in the bathroom. A boy in my class dances fluid-languid by another boy in my class who’s across a girl in my class who is tall and wears crop tops. I scan the disco-ball lit dance floor for what’s ‘in’: short tight mini-skirts that hike up your belly … More Behind The Lens

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sr.

SOFT and blurred and strange like urban carbon decay. i remember that year I skipped the haunted house to instead count lonely days and periods of my life measured by eyeliner type (from chalky to waxy to dark and smudgy) on bad nights I’d tally them up on a sticky note by the light switch … More sr.

Free to Be

The other day I sat in a hot car for too long, maybe five hours, and by the end of those five hours felt a sort of exhausted bitterness wash over me- like my body was drained and my arms were heavy and I was irritated, irritated, irritated. I wondered for a moment why it … More Free to Be