You can’t ask me to tell you where it started…
Since birth a description was written for me 
by every hand that was big enough to hold a pen.
We knew I couldn’t speak, 
so they assigned a title for me
figuring my silence was a good enough signal for consent.


We walk through screaming cities past drunk bodies all searching for a way to get home 

stumbling over, we grab everything on the way down hoping something might just break the fall 


We're all desperate for attention 

We move in packs with others like us 

helping to mix cocktails of desperation with the poison we spend our housing deposits on...


That could've been us

She said as her eyes shoot like daggers into the pit of my gut

Nothing else floats a reality to the surface faster than the sight of fear in someone's eyes pounding as hard as the heart in your own chest

When you both know you’re thinking the exact same thing...