blackberry roads

it smells just like blackberries on the highway

smoke and daydreams

mental breakdowns in the backseat

staring out the window

you watch the world go by until you start to get dizzy

you watch the world go by until you don’t know what you’re doing

yeah you’re fifteen, and you’re confused

so you’re reading all the books you can find

pray to god you can pay off the overdue fines

you stand there, and you watch from the sidelines

work on your note-taking skills

you are cynical and dreaming

black-eyed and bruised

and sometimes you cry like a baby

when you lose your keys

or check the news

i write my poems in second person

‘cause i can’t stand to see myself in you

I’ve been getting a lot better at guitar, and I can totally imagine this as a spoken word track–with some guitar in the background, and an old-timey vintage feel to it? I don’t know–I wanted to write a piece that encapsulated my summer, and this ended up being it.


an incomprehensive guide to coping

  1. stop scrolling through your phone first thing in the morning. delete all the apps on your phone. (it won’t last, and you know this. do it anyway.)
  2. try to breathe, in and out until it fades to muscle memory. stitch your pieces into order. slowly.
  3. when you stab yourself with the needle, force yourself not to bleed on the fabric. get up, and go to the medicine cabinet. wash the blood off your hands.
  4. take your brain in for repairs, like a shitty computer, constantly needing to be taken in for repairs. you tighten the screws, you reset the hard drive, you bang the dust out of the keyboard, and know you’ll come back here next week.
  5. have a drink of water, ‘cause you can’t drown out this weight in your belly, but you sure can try. (dizzy on the tennis court, sick in the sunrise.)
  6. sometimes, depression feels like drowning slowly. sometimes, there are good days, and you gasp for air and you think you’re all right, until the next wave hits me from behind. but all this time, you’ve been floating in the sea. and there’s no land in sight.
  7. so try not to feel sorry for yourself. even when your life feels like a sob story in a youtube comments section. even when you’re drifting, and you’re screaming out, and no one comes to help you. 
  8. go to sleep. tell yourself you’ll wake up early. save it for another night. ‘cause when you can barely breathe, you’ve got other things on your mind. and yeah, it sucks. but in the big scheme of things, it’ll turn out all right.
  9. call your friend. zone out. stare into blue light. take a bath and iron that twisty feeling out of your stomach. lie on the floor, exhausted and breathing.
  10. fashion a raft out of kelp and driftwood. it’s shitty, and haphazard, and it’ll only last a week. but it’s something.

red sun

there’s blood on the curtains / blood under my fingers / and blood on the floor / there’s a mess on the carpet / and a list of things i’ll never get done / pinned up on the door / there’s a hole in the wall / and eight / and maybe i’ll get to them someday / but it’s sure not happening soon / cause today / i’ve got a busy schedule of crumbling myself like pastry to the floor / until there’s nothing left / but blood on my shirt / blood on the sheets / blood on the floor / and i collapse, exhausted / 12am exactly / wake up at 8, push through smoke and haze / like curtains, maybe / if you think about it right / but no matter how far i run, i always come back for more / drill the familiar rhythms into bloodshot eyes and sunburnt skin / it’s been a long summer of fighting / wading through fields of thigh-high grasses / dried up and old / hopping over burnt-down tree stumps / and falling down the rabbit hole


content warning: plant based body horror

there’s dirt on my skin, there always is. the flowers on my desk have died and gone to heaven. and i don’t think i’m going with them, no matter how much i yearn for escape. cause and there’s a spiderweb inside me, and it’s growing by the day, it’s got me all tangled up now, like a butterfly daydream. or a codling moth. i’ve got chips in both my shoulders, dirt under my nails, aorta dying back. but i can’t fix it up, can’t make myself give a shit. i’ve got mud on my knees, and my veins show a bit. sometimes touching my body is enough to make me feel sick. i can’t feel my ribs, ’cause i think i cut those back. and the ivy’s taken over for good this time. so i’ve got willow branches for hair, i’ve got daisies in my eyes. dandelions on my belly. gotta pull them out before they go to seed. gotta wipe this out, gotta get it all clean, drown it out in salt and vinegar. something strong enough to knock the gods off their feet.

So, I have absolutely no idea what this piece means–but I came up with it a few days ago, and I really love plant-based body horror. It might just be because I spend a lot of time thinking about plants, so it comes naturally to me, I’m not sure–and I love writing more metaphorical, slightly creepy pieces like this.


when i wake up / the first thing i do is check my phone / and when i go to bed / i count out the seconds in my head / until i don’t have to be alone / yeah, i can’t think of anything new / cause it’s swimming through my brain / it’s drowning / just off the coast as the wind grows louder / and the sky shakes through to its core / when i wake up / i’m just as exhausted as i felt the night before / it just never ends / when it comes down to it / yeah it’s 24/7 and i’m sitting down at my desk and i’m trying to find a meaning / but it just keeps on spinning / and if we could just stop for a moment / put this whole thing on ice / maybe i could catch a breath / figure out how to apologize / cause the words are spewing out of me too fast to count / i hope they keep on coming / i hope i never buy a house / or have a family / hope i work and work and work / and i burn myself down so you won’t forget me / hope i’m never satisfied, or happy / hope i’m everything i dreamed and more / hope the walls turn to fog, and smoke clogs my throat like cotton candy / hope i’m better than everyone else / like, really / and when i wake up / the first thing i do is check my phone, scroll through pictures of things i will never be / check my notifications / and go back to sleep

So… I have basically been on social media nonstop for a good three years now–and it’s starting to wear on me. At first, it was super fun, and exciting and all. But these days, it’s starting to wear on me. So I’ve been taking a semi-break of late, where once a week or so I’ll do the bare essentials and go back into hibernation. I think it’s good for me, not to spend so much time thinking about what strangers on the internet are doing with their lives, because sometimes, just scrolling through Instagram for five minutes makes me feel like garbage. I really love the internet–but I don’t love certain unavoidable aspects of it, and I think I just need a little bit of a break.

Lots of love,