HOW DO YOU MATTER? to a country that sees your skin as a weapon. your sibling. your father. your mother. your close friend. slain. it’s a wound you carry like bites on your ankle. covered with socks and silence and neglect. how many souls have they misdiagnosed? misunderstood? punished? they know. but… Continue reading Matter.
I survived my first kiss with oxygen after my nine-month lease ended with my landlord. I survived the religious dictatorship of the hospital I was born in. I survived the ocean of tears that flooded my shirt when I was left alone to endure the deplorable and defective public schools of my hometown for my… Continue reading Survival of the Fittest
I recently thought about a traumatic experience in 5th grade when they found a dead body in the cafeteria vent. So I wrote this poem about it. This is like an untold narrative about him. It also sort of is a story of lots of people in my neighborhood. Fortunately, I was a survivor of penury. But, the soul of the story was a victim.