I am a character-driven writer with a deep love for emotional realism and immersive worldbuilding. My work spans intimate poetry, slice-of-life fiction, and expansive, lore-rich universes, but at its core, everything I write centers on identity, belonging, and the quiet ache of becoming. I build worlds the way some people build homes-layered with texture, continuity, and lived-in detail-whether that world is a rural backyard seen through the eyes of small creatures, a modern apartment shared by lovers, or a mythic wilderness shaped by pack politics and memory.
My poetry is sensory and vulnerable, often exploring masculinity, longing, grief, and embodiment through metaphor and natural imagery. I lean into moss, gravel, fur, fog, breath, hands, and silence-grounding abstract emotion in physical experience. Much of my work grapples with trans identity not as a thesis, but as an undercurrent: yearning, anger, envy, softness, survival. I'm interested in the in-between spaces-between anger and hope, between dysphoria and desire, between isolation and connection.
As a worldbuilder, I am meticulous and continuity-focused. I track relationships, histories, architecture, seasons, and emotional arcs with care. My characters are not static-they age, evolve, form histories together. Even background details matter. A balcony has a blueprint. A forest clearing has seasonal light shifts. A rat has a specific fur pattern and temperament. I treat my fictional spaces as living ecosystems, where every choice ripples outward.
Ultimately, I write to process, to preserve, and to build places where softness is allowed. My work blends intimacy with scope-small gestures held inside large emotional landscapes. Whether I'm drafting a quiet domestic morning or a visceral poem about survival, I write with the intention of honoring complexity, especially in bodies and identities that are often misunderstood.