Writer • Editor • Artist/e
Dorando I He wasn’t appreciated much most artist ain’t. With his fur collar, pimp stroll— hair slick back smooth mouth…know how make yo hips move put you in a mood, where you don’t wanna to get out of yo feelings.
I have opened myself to being vulnerable—and I thank you. For teaching me to swallow the good and the bad. You have taught me too be brave at everything I do.
Trying to take refuge in a body waring itself to live with a mind getting too comfortable with death your tongue clutching onto survival.
Sitting in empty thinking how I just want to be enough for you, a place to call whole.
Stop celebrating holidays that aren’t a part of your culture. You’ll ruin the real essence of the tradition.
When it is time I will be done with all I have to say in this world. All you will have of me is the writings I left behind.
Creating your art through the lens of others is sabotage of the self.
Zainab Amin Today a country mourns the blood that was spilled today Of a young girl.
RIP Rashawn Brazell They come in smiles and call themselves friends of yours. Careful, of devils.
R.I.P. Jennifer Ertman and Elizabeth Peña Friend, I rather die than live, knowing I could’ve helped you but didn’t.
Come love, and let this journey of o u r love take flight so even the gods could envy us.