Photo by Arie Wubben on Unsplash

Up — shooting through a plane of anxiety,

Swirling neurons spasm and thrash and trash my body.

Down, up, up, down, ascending severity

I pray to all deities: Allah, Krishna, God, please.

In between known and unknown, life and death,

Relying on periodic updates, in-flight service,

The quickening of…


Who am I?

I ask this question sometimes, but not as often as I should.

It’s healthy, I think, to ponder existence

As if it were a fig tree

Or a melody

Or flames

If there is a definitive answer to “Who am I?” …


Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Obnoxious noises scratch and claw at the pavement,

Searching for the last morsel of nutrients.

Tweets bounce off the walls like… well, like misguided birds.

Riotpolluteragepoliticizerebelpray;

A cacophony of sound that’s not all too pleasant on the ears or the palette.

It swirls and eddies like wistful mist,

Clouding any…


Photo by Eric Han on Unsplash

Quick: In 3 seconds or less

Determine where you are

Right here, right now.

Didn’t get it right, did ya?

You see, the brain is so advanced

It has no choice but to take it all in —

The lightning pulses of information

That strobe in your neurons like


Photo by Žygimantas Dukauskas on Unsplash

WebMD entices me to be my own doctor

To locate the pain and navigate my brain

And come up with a clear diagnosis,

One that offers a pretty grim prognosis;

I work myself up into a tizzy

I grow nauseous, I get dizzy

Yet I have no medical degree,

Just…


A poem

You sigh in your sleep

And my heart melts with the sound

Your secrets and sanctity I shall keep;

Past my expiration date, I’ll still be around.

Because you’re worth it, damn it,

Even on the days when you can’t see.

Your lips, your hips, I confess, I cannot…


A poem

Photo by Nicola Fioravanti on Unsplash

Imagine if your heart was trapped behind a wall

Made up of phrases, big words and small.

Things that were said, or were thought but not spoken.

Things that left you scared, shattered, and broken.

Whispers from your parents, unsure of their children

Complaints from your teachers, you’re a tiresome…


Photo by Gabriel Benois on Unsplash

After these nine-plus months, we all want some semblance of this thing called control, right? The ability to feel like the next day will be okay, and the day after that and so on.

I’m here to tell you it’s folly. A false wish that will never be fulfilled. Sorry.

Accountable Alchemy

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