When I feel the sunlight passing through me, reflecting off the cracking bones Breaking whatever remains of me,I feel empty.
We stand in darkness
The sun sets,As the sky burns, Crimson red.
Forest
A Poem
If you happen upon dark woods, so dense you fear to enter, I tell you — enter.
Glossy magazines,And grossed-out, unnerving sexismServed on the platterOf compulsive consumptionCatering to base appetites.
Outside my window, an icy wind stirs fall’s dying leaves — churning, turning, as do I upon my bed.The clock pounds into my head,ticking with…