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Handled

This poem traces the insult of polished concern in a life already heavy with real suffering. What remains is a record of false tenderness, procedural distance, and the rage of knowing the difference.

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4/20/2026 16:22

A nurse who has spent years holding the line for everyone else is forced to confront the limits of devotion. A sharp poem about helplessness, procedure, and the awful fluency of continuing after your life has split open.

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mirror inventory

A raw narrative about the aftermath of emotional damage, where body shame, silence, and mental distress become the record of what a relationship took.

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Seen / Unseen

A raw, unflinching trauma narrative that captures the isolation of bipolar depression, exposing the distance between offered support and true presence, and the brutal persistence required to stay alive.

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Red Carpet, Then Wreckage

A sharp, unflinching trauma narrative that examines lovebombing as a form of psychological conditioning, tracing how intensity becomes addiction and how its aftermath distorts the way love is recognized.

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Third Degree Devotion

A searing trauma narrative that uses fire as a metaphor for loving someone unraveling, capturing the disorientation, manipulation, and aftermath of escaping a relationship that consumed everything.

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F31.81, In Partial Remission

A fierce, intimate essay that explores bipolar disorder through the lens of caregiving, tracing the tension between high-functioning professionalism and private collapse.

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Narrative Note: Grief

A darkly satirical poem in which nursing documentation becomes the container for death, family devastation, and the impossible administrative fiction of “stable.”

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“The Palms STill Stand. Crisp Silhouettes against a Hazy Sky, tall as guilt and just as thin. They line the driveway in symmetrical grief, as if trying to offer shade to something that can’t be cooled. Everything here is sun-bleached and wind-chapped, held together by spider webs and memory. The breeze tastes like eucalyptus and the air smells like dust that used to be skin.”

Noncompliant: A Sunglassed Elegy From Camarillo