fallen between the abstract | a distant hallelujah          next to the clovesI slip and am unsalvageable, but I know howforgiveness is shaped even if I have never knownthe scent of purity | lashing out at horns thatbreed like passing streetlights before the fire ever began           nightswithout fire, without heat | the estrangementnow named home, the fireflies of Connecticutthat move me from...

I think I will return to livingfor all the photos of methat haven’t yet been taken.For every kiss that I have been promised, and the jokes I still have not told. I’d like to be around to wear in the soulsOf my Doc Martin boots,to feel the sweet sorrow of one more heartbreak. There are so many more shower time concerts drives to the sea, and days lying topless in the sun. That feeling of not qui...

Everyone has a mask they wear, it's down to survival...