An Old Battle With Anxiety

Thud, thud, thud. There is a sound behind me, chasing me as the tips of branches scrape my cheeks, like a ballpoint pen carved into a dagger, scratching streaks of dirt and red wine into my skin that smell fresher than the happiness scrawled on my lips. And there is a breeze in the forest that places furrowed brows on my friendly façade and meets my eyes with dry tears and ever pounding footsteps. The soil is sinking beneath my feet, pulling me down like bubbles in a Jacuzzi that whisper, come here, you have never felt this at peace … Continue reading An Old Battle With Anxiety


Today I walked down a cliff. Today I looked at impulsion and kissed the mountain, left my sweet scent between the ridges. Today I am alive because of risk, dirt, and hands. Hands that grip jagged edges, hands to hold, hands that leave the cross. And I am handing over rocks that slip and profanities that ricochet, but not handing over my life to God, still nestled beneath my tongue and behind the fiery spirit that tells me I am sizzling with too much passionate fire for my Savior’s cool waters. And I am scared that my sins will be … Continue reading Testimony

Salt Culture

The voices behind me are so loud they Chase my feet with salty water, Rising to my ankles then to my knees I am in slow motion with each leap I take I am two feet behind I am drowning in their drunken voices I am their prey- I pray I learn how to swim but The water reaches my waist and Sounds become hands become growls Come here baby  I am drowning in water so salty My tears become the ocean. Continue reading Salt Culture

The Story of Anxiety

I can tell you the story of how he’s a good shooter: that little patch of grass. Yellowed, like his skin at birth. Soft enough to tickle pores, tough enough to cause a shock upon impact. Impact from years of depression, scars from being hurdled through a window by an alcoholic uncle, glass that shattered as fiercely as his family relationships, what little joy remained standing. There. On that little patch of grass. From where he would shoot basketballs, the one pastime he could bounce back on, the one patch in his life he could improve. He aimed countless balls … Continue reading The Story of Anxiety


I dream of words tossed above covers and emotional armor unhinged, the way lace and cotton fly over duvet seas and a bra is unclasped. I dream of poetry between your lips transcribed between my legs. Not merely a tongue I desire, but its swirls and flicks that articulate ceaseless wonders. I want the art of your mind, expressed through your mouth, delivered into my body. Continue reading Undressed