The next day, she threatened to slit my throat in the dead of night, said my sheets would run redder than every last cunt in Orange County.

There were all these portraits of me hung on the walls and they would dance on the frames,
 the shadow people that spiritually strapped my body to the mattress.

DIY Girl turns shit into sugar, men into murderers. DIY Girl is a melted qt-colored crayon

Art is, to me, a balance between what you say and what you don’t. What you let a stranger’s imagination fill in.

Last week I arrived in Montreal with no particular address in mind.

It was August 26th and my lease started September 1st. A more intelligent being would point out that there may be a problem with

I. xaxaxaxa
I don’t consider myself esoteric or mystical, but while tidying my desk I found a little square
sticker with just the number 8 on it; I think it fell off the new t-shirt I was

At last, I texted him the truth: I have bipolar disorder. I’m in a hypomanic episode. I’m really not feeling well, I can’t stop crying. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry...

Among the crowd at Washington Square, a young man holds aloft a slice of cardboard scrawled with permanent marker. It reads simply: I EAT ASS.

I recently started my third year of university. In my first year, I lived in the dorms and got acquainted with the people who just so happened to be experiencing their Firsts at the same

Dear Jane,

I sometimes wear an old kimono I bought out of a by-the-pound box in a shop basement in Chicago and I listened to a podcast today about how I shouldn’t wear kimonos if I’m not Japanese

It is Winter again. I am not myself.

Cherry nausea tablets dissolve under my tongue every morning, ostensibly tricking my mind from dry-heaving, and sleeping requires triple the dosage of Trazodone

I draw the line at unboxing videos.

This is what we tell ourselves about places like this: that they belong only to a certain New York, a New York of discrete transactions and brass plaques reading “Jeffrey E. Epstein Corporation.”

You are only who you are to him. Waitresses treat you weird and ask questions..

I don’t fully recall when I realized that the smoke detector was going off

It was summer heat 
And the breath of living someone else’s life 

Poet, activist, and educator Anthony Thomas Lombardi absolutely slays the page in his debut collection murmurations from YesYes books. It is a collection steeped in survival and song—with the iconic Amy Winehouse at its center, the patron saint of the collection, Lombardi revels in variations of doomed beauty, over and over, until there is nothing left but sacred stain.

Fully, religiously, rigorously outline, and enjoy the surprises along the way.

If I was a dog, I wouldn't be responsible for my own life.

One time years ago, a friend threw herself a birthday party and bought her own birthday cake, which I found surprising. She said, of course I bought my own cake. Who else was going to do it? I think it’s the same with book promotion. You have to buy your own cake, and make an event of it.