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I think about archiving my young tits as I age. Not out of a lurking desire to keep them, but to understand how they’ll ferment. Why maintain two decade breasts when I can live out how they’ll swallow into themselves or layer my abdomen. What a gorgeous moment it will be to uncork the index…

erect nipples and baggy pants that make my inner thighs  trip over the penis i dont have. Dark wash jeans, and my  mama’s mama’s sliced sheet cake. Rotten tequila  hand sanitizer, the gangly french woman on my commute who  only wears sterling silver, and patches of eczema propagating  across my hand. the square cut of…

Stirring infant legs haven’t straddled my side. Instead, sand bags, three tote bags simultaneously, stacks of books, overbought groceries, and the canvas slung tools dodged into my waist line for gravitational support. When I started lifting heavy things, I understood why women have hips.

my partner splayed my lips with ten forceps. Each layer was delicately peeled back, met with his dry lips until my well spilled over to moisturize them. uncovered, our mattress breathed cool air. The crocheted blanket snuggled a path above his head. My eyes spun out to a doctors office, but I never left the…

When seven firetrucks, three ambulances, and a firehouse swathed through the fifth floor, I wished to move to Michigan. Live with my mother, even. Immediately, I sent myself there: working in a restaurant, paying debts, and eliminating insecurity independence has piled on. I choose what’s difficult more often than not. My bags are packed weeks…

I like routines and  long sentences. squash fritters and crystal clear dishwasher-cleansed  glasses. Foggy mornings,  too. I like cancelling plans before i make them. Brainstorming everything yet finishing nothing. Matcha— unsweetened. Oat milk’s smaller environmental footprint,  phew. email coupons and never sorting my work email into proper folders. waking up early. not for me. just for  you. 

My coworkers must overestimate my age when they ask about my life because my New Year looked like falling asleep a full hour early — only minutes after cancelling any half-hearted commitment to leaving the house. I binged Too Hot To Handle while my roommates tried to act uninterested amidst their dozens of clarifying questions…

i’m a compulsive job applicant. I haven’t been unemployed since the age of twelve and never have i ever halted the habit. A former teacher used to draw her archived rejection letters into beautifully rendered reproductions, but i’m more equipped to rewrite the goddamn things.  Hi Bailey,  Thank you for applying to our vacancy of…