ALL WRITING
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To My Late Hero, The Original Rockstar
“I would literally cut off my arm to have dinner with him.” “Seriously? That’s intense.”“Okay maybe not the whole arm, but definitely a finger or two.” I try not to be parasocial about celebrities, I really do. And for the most part I think I’ve been successful in that effort. However, there is one person in…
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The Epilogue of the Kid
At the sweetest age I found myself at an impasse that would inevitably curate my life’s permanent path. Reckless abandon met with a crippling curiosity and above all, a desire to feel level. To feel at ease. I couldn’t help myself; the looming illness and words like daggers from my father’s mouth: I was a…
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No Airbag, We Die Like Men
Something like a needle scraping the flesh that coats the inside of my skull. Etching, scratching, attempting to free itself from the confines. If I knew the way out I would tell it how, but I’ve been looking for that answer myself. Somewhere along the way I misplaced the directions, or perhaps they were never…
Her Candid Altar 