i ride for the wind, my companion gently consoling me with a soft caress; or else my adversary resisting my motion like a stern parent. i ride for the sun, warming my back with it’s steady heat or a jilted lover hiding behind the trees or heavy clouds afraid to show its face. 1.31.17

day starts heavy weighed down by bedcovers like a swaddled baby trapped in warmth. face feels the chill of the outside air and i long to stay, stay in. 1.30.17

painted like glamor queens of old we decorate our little girls and send them out to spring and flip for us all; the juxtaposition of strength and allure in one so young. 1.29.17

the pot has been stirred it’s bubbling over world now aware of the stench of its hate. let us be witches who gather together to decay others’ fear with each coming day. 1.28.17

the pleasure of the pen as ink stains the paper, the nib scratches the surface of all you want to say. 1.27.17