after a half century of masking and denialautism self-realizationis walking down a hallwaywith a hundred doorsand each door hides another realization how does one respond to“just checking on you”in a way that doesn’t sound loaded?“i’m fine” sounds dismissive“i’m alive” is either glib or passive-aggressive masking“doing great” only works if i’m doing great and i’m not…

spring is greenbut not too greenand the air is warmbut not too warmand the sun is brightbut not too bright and i rememberthe balloonmanand the sloshy mudwhich was just spring but is spring just? 04.07.23

you’re not any good at this,you know everyone is being politewhen they say they want to hearwhat you have to say they’re worried about your meltdownsabout your fragile emotional state it costs them so much to be honestand so little to just lieso they liethey say you’re a good writerthey say you have interesting pointsthey…

red is the momentthat rage devours despairblood dampens waterfire dissolves tears i was drowningin an ocean of bluesuccumbing to the darknesssliding into the slipstream but we can drownor we can burn we can collapseor we can overcome we can slide between the wallsand disappear into the shadows or we can claw our wayback into the…

a letterto the girl i never was i’m sorry that you didn’t have a chance to be i wish i could say that i knew you were thereinsidewatching the worldbehind a web of masculinity but i was trying too hardto fit into not be mockedto stand up myselfto make my father proud little me didn’t…

i never liked historybut now i can tell youthe pythagorean theorem was known well before pythagorasalgebraic notation does not appear in the kitab al-jabrbut it has some really neat geometry in itthe vinculum appears commonly in three placesover the radicand even when it’s not neededover repeated decimalsand as the fraction barbut otherwise it mostly lost…

i was made of mud and twigsand tufts of grassand stones from the riverbed my bones were logsof fallen treesdestroyed by insectseating into the core i was moldedinto the shape of manwith layers upon layers mud upon logsmud upon mudclay riddled with rockspocking my skin i was formedi was deformedi was reformed and left to…

one daywhen i was invisiblei climbed into a windowof an abandoned houseon the other side of the tracks it was the industrial part of townwhere the air was heavy with the rancid smellof lubricating oiland rusty auto partsand the sweat of menwho knew what manhood was but now the tracks were overgrownwith thickets and broken…