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A room full of pointed crystals,

Furniture emboldened with jewels

The arms of an extravagant loveseat

Reaching for me

The psychic says I am not gay

I am something else

Something else

She says, she doesn’t know

What’s not offensive these days

I might have, could have laughed,

But my self-concept is Tempurpedic



I am not gay?

Well, what about queer

I offer

She doesn’t seem sold

And she says a lot about you too

It does not make me feel good or bad —

Says you were a man the past 25 lifetimes

Says, you have forgotten…

The first bite of a chocolate cake

Being the only car on the road

Driving with the windows down

The smell of Jasmine

Stumbling upon live music

Running barefoot on soft, freshly cut grass

A drastic, new haircut after a breakup

Feeling ice cold water slide down your throat

Beginner’s luck

Walking underneath a canopy of trees

Specks of sunlight escaping through

Meeting someone by chance and thinking

Where have you been all my life

Letting the sun dry you off after a dip in the ocean -

A dip in the ocean

A baby’s giggle

Honey — everything about…

Fear — Pain : Regenerate — Explore

Sometimes I feel

There are wounds so deep inside of me

That my breathe can’t seem to reach

No matter the strength of my inhale

That the light,

No matter which angle it rests

Can’t seem to expose

That even a lover’s embrace — tender and warm

Only grazes the surface of,

Sending prickles down my spine.


Still, I think

My hurt reverberates

Shows up in all of the in between places

Makes itself known;

Maybe under a different name

But in one way or another,

Makes itself known.




***TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Assault***

“Who taught you how to swim?” my then-partner asked me, as our bodies bobbed around in the deep end. We had just learned that the gate to the apartment complex pool was broken, a tip graciously gifted to us by the San Luis Obispo locals, and that we could simply lift it to get in whenever we wanted. For the summer, we were living together in another apartment across the street — it didn’t have air conditioning, or a pool; so on days where the California heat seemed unbeatable, when even the apartment walls began to…

Gentle California

Arriving at the San Jose airport to meet my new family sent me into a kind of paralysis. I was seven years old at the time. Before I left, they had sent a box full of toys and trinkets to Florida for me, hoping that the gifts would keep me entertained on the flight; a kind of peace offering. I was won over by this action, sure that anything would be better than where I was coming from. Among other time-passing activities, there were Disney coloring books in the box and a 64 pack of Crayola Crayons. I…


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