My Brain is a Beehive

The other night I looked at myself in the mirror and was surprised to see that my forehead was still intact. I expected it to have exploded by now, from all the pressure against my brain. sending shards of my skin flying through the air like shrapnel. And yet, there it was. And I realized that my seamless complexion revealed nothing of the torrent of bees in my brain. Swarming it as if it were their nest. My placid voice did not portray Continue reading

Reclaiming Sexual Agency

“I do not wish women to have control over men; but over themselves” -Mary Shelley


I admire the wax sitting crusted in your ear and the old makeup curdled in the corner of your eye. I want to smell your stale breath that is cultivated from your intense sadness, or indulgence in fast-paced inspiration or reminisce. After long-drawn tears Continue reading