poetry.is an infusionofscaleand feather.bruiseand mist.

the rain in this room is low and thickand undressing my heart through the air. – intimacy 

it is being honest about my painthat makes me invincible.

my mother gave me islam.my father gave me the god of absence.and here i am.a religion made of myself.

i am the line. on both sides there are songs in my name. – bi

when words take off their clothes. for me.so i can write. themexactly. as they are.— skin