“I do not want my worth to be centered in men with fangs for teeth I do not deserve to be degraded in a leather seat my worth is powerful you will never take that away from me.”

Your scars speak terrible stories turned to beauty.

Anxiety feels like over-explaining chronically.

If only were my skin like art shining against the mould, if only my body were a canvas brave if only.

My very survival is a spit on your face don’t fuck with a woman who knows her worth.

A powerful woman is dangerous heaven and hell both want the rights anticipation is a one-night stand or better yet use your own fucking hand.

I’m such a people pleaser I even want random strangers on the internet to like me.

When I ask myself why am I even sober anymore I wish I could lose myself for even just a minute without it being a death sentence.

I am on another planet experiencing myself the colors run but I’m not caught up on perfections here I just want to be my own friend again I just want to love my bones without restraint.

It’s those Saturday mornings laughing underneath the sheets it’s a glimpse of everything I dreamed that makes me feel hope for us. Saturdays could be our thing.

Writing saved me when my phone went silent.

Hard crash everything good has to end take your fucking Prozac.

You were the best and worst nights of my life fucking while the flames lick us at least you’re a distraction from my spiritual death. You’re a god damn angel in a crack den.

I am a woman writer the last thing I am is weak.

Your silence speaks in waves I am trying to not drown in my own thoughts let alone yours.

And when I pour myself unafraid like the shatter had a purpose I become the wave.

I gave names to all my disorders to humanize the pain.