This piece is a reflection on wonder, art, and the ache of craving deeper connection in a hyper-automated, hyper-curated world. It’s for anyone who's felt restless in the mundane and still believes in the magic of the human mind. What If You’re Not Bored, Just Underwhelmed
Part 10:00/154.991746031746031×Part 20:00/120.062666666666671× Today I feel like writing.But not a poem, not a story, not a chapter — just writing. I haven’t written in a few days, maybe a week, because in that time I’ve been doing nothing but simply living…
Because apparently enlightenment comes in rubber form Picture it: Puerto Rico, 2012.A brutally hot summer day. I sat there in indigo-blue slacks and a coral-striped shirt with matching coral flip-flops. My toes wiggled as I looked down at them, happily licking my cherry-flavored piragua. I was perched on a
My disdain for men has never been a secret. It’s been apparent since childhood. I never particularly cared for boys—I hated my older half-brothers, and that still hasn’t changed. Boys were (and remain) plainly obnoxious with a sense of entitlement that needed to be stopped. Now, granted,
Because apparently birth control couldn’t just regulate my cycle, it had to give me a dump truck and an identity crisis. So, listen… I was never a fan of birth control. I tried it once in my early twenties because of irregular cycles, and when I say I transformed
Chapter 6 Track Berghain Rosala0:00/114.8561× ✨ Chapter 6 Is Coming In Hot — Jenna & The Beast ✨ Jenna isn’t the girl men assume she is. She’s softness stitched to scars, a survivor molded in fire, a monster with velvet hands and horns hidden beneath perfume and satin
The Poet’s Brew Visual Diary is live and brewing at ThePoetsBrew.Blog If you’re drawn to imagery soaked in mood... dark academia, gothic aesthetics, poetic musings, and the curiosities that shape me, come take a look. It’s less about polished poems and more about the raw visuals
Poetry, reflections, and musings, straight from the cauldron.
I wasn’t looking for rage, but it found me. Crept in while I slept, peaceful, unbound, free. It gently touched my shoulder, said, “Wake up, sleepyhead,” And when I opened my eyes, only rage lay in my bed. It leaned in close and kissed me slow, Then swallowed me
