A tick leaves behind something far larger than its bite: a body gone strange, hostile, and impossible to trust. The poem descends into the grotesque aftermath of Lyme disease, where pain flickers room to room and the body becomes a haunted place still trying to name what entered it.

Not fate. Not flowers. Just one clean motion and a whole nervous system folding in the passenger seat. A poem about how quickly competence can turn into lust.

Little green army men around the bed: a perimeter, a punchline, a prayer. A poem about trying to protect yourself from the person you invited in anyway.

A comedic, observational essay about heterosexual courtship rituals, lesbian visibility, and the surreal experience of being flirted with by men you fundamentally do not register.

A sparkling, high-velocity astrological lyric essay that uses a Gemini stellium to explore intellect as seduction, language as identity, and the endless reinvention of the self through curiosity and connection.

A biting lesbian visibility essay that turns the male gaze into a punchline, and reclaiming lesbian identity as boundary, a refusal, and a glittering threat.

A darkly funny confessional poem in which Saint Dymphna becomes the exhausted witness to spirals, exes, hyperfixations, and the very modern theater of unraveling.

A blasphemous, darkly funny spoken-word poem about Catholic guilt, queer desire, and the lingering urge to be forgiven even when you look incredible not repenting.

A feral little afterlife poem about Saint Peter being annoying, God being funnier than the Church, and October 3rd Mean Girls references absolutely earning their wings.

A ferocious spoken-word poem about communion, religious shame, and the hunger that survives every attempt to make suffering look sacred.