❝What fuels me but the absurd hope this cathedral of rubble might someday grow vines strong enough to hold it together? What if the cracks become windows? ❞ Poetry written after the 25th of October, 2024.

❝The calm in my marrow spoke in muted bursts of fireworks. I was born for explosions and trying to be less.❞ Over the past decade, I've written poems, books, short stories, fanfiction and hundreds of thousands of words, but nothing felt complete. This collection of selected works was meant to be my final offering- the only thing ready for posthumous publication. Blood Orange Periphery includes poems written in the months preceding the end-that-didn't-happen, some of my best teenage scribbles, and journal entries that chronicle the transition from death-planning to recalibrating life.