Writing
ongoing
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Hold The Knife
poem
I feel too drained to mask it behind sarcasm
and I don’t have an edge anymore.
Years of not even feeling second best do that for you;
losing friends left and right
for no reason tells you to stop talking.

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Down By The River biofiction

In 1431, Jeanne D’Arc walks down the square in Rouen to the pire. She knows the end is near, and she isn’t afraid.

In this biofiction piece, I portray the final moments of a young woman, who knows that the end is so neat that she can’t be scared of what comes next. She reflects on her childhood and the decisions that led to the end.

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By The Apple Tree
poem

I buried you in my mind before;
under the apple tree in my mother’s garden.
You’ve never been, but
it’s the only final resting place I know.

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