Writing Portfolio

Some people bounce back from divorce like they just left a bad concert early. They shrug off the grief like last night’s hangover. A shot...

Touch is a human necessity.  We reach for warmth, breath, presence. When someone dies, the body, once porous and living, becomes separate...

There’s a special hell reserved for people still in love with the ones who destroyed them. Not the kind of destruction that makes a good...

Desire in chains, longing like a knife. Love songs written in blood. And women, always on the pedestal, always in the cage. We’re told...

Let’s start with a confession. You’ve imagined it. Don’t lie. Him: hair damp with sweat, cheek cut from battle, blood, not all his, dried...

Trigger warning: This piece discusses themes of self-harm, bodily trauma, and spiritualised pain in graphic and metaphorical detail. A...

Somatic grief, erotic decay, and the unbearable intimacy of being alive. I think my liver wants to fuck my lungs. They ache when I...

Falling for bones, lungs, blood maps—emotional intimacy through internal anatomy. Some people fall for eyes or smiles. I fall for...

Suffering as spectacle. The patron saint of aesthetic agony. There’s a perverse poetry to St. Sebastian, isn’t there? His image is...