An ode to my younger self and the fractal nature of growth (2022/2019)

God can't hold all of our hands at once.

It's winter I dislike winter here is distasteful winter poetry

amidst the turmoil of the world silent poets are munching words

desalinated drag

egoic swellings (2020)

small city thoughts, & the undeniable homoerotic subtext that comes with living in the deep south. 2019-2021 © weeddazes

days and days