To find the words in my mind that fall from fingertips dipped in ink and smeared with the blood of thought. I cannot voice these things with sound, my throat clenches with the fear of spoken thoughts. There are too many things trapped inside, too many wants without recompense. Scattered and lost, some found through stumbling in the dark of my empty corners.

These are the reasons why I am obsessed with words, this is why I spill blood through ink, onto pages real and lost. This is the meaning of me, the things that tie me to this world, and often let me go. The pieces you will never see unless you read, never touch unless you feel my words, never know until you look, and see past the face I show the world, to the one tattooed with letters…❤️