words craftef by an apprentice sage and/or madwoman 

To put the matter delicately, it is a sobering rite of passage. To discover that one usually looks their best when their friends...

I am never able to fall asleep on Full Mooned Nights. Such moon phases coat nights with energy, not of chivalrous, kind peace but his...

I rest my head between perpendicular wooden beams because my neck gets tired. It doesn’t get tired of the weight, no it is quite used to...

I’m battling with blu tack at the moment. I find paint sits best where it’s not meant to be, so I paint on scraps of gridded math notes...

Occasionally, a picture of my younger self rudely interrupts my daily hubbub of late adolescence and I always notice, first and foremost,...

It is during the occasional night wherein I find myself flipping and flailing anxiously in an artificially heated room, like the awkward...

Swans mate for life and die of literal heartbreak and penguins propose with a meticulously selected Pebble. Albatrosses learn the art of...

I visited an art gallery and within it was a piece about home. Or rather a lack of it. Embroidered on a black wall with a matte finish,...

If I’m ever caught in the unfortunate incident of walking alone in the dark, you tell me, I must decorate the slits between my knuckles...

Outside my bedroom window proudly stand a row of orange streetlights. They’re so warmly and electrically orange, little orbs of the Sun...

The harsh reality of not being a pick me girl is Quite often you don’t get picked! You will be deemed too bossy when you’re a great...

You make me want to pick up a book and read of Aristotle and Platos’ beef until 3 am. You remind me, without realising, to call my...

Most times, I come home To an empty house. Albeit, my dogs greet me with tails wagging and tongues hanging, Before quickly folding again...

Life can be simplified down to a series of patterns like the shapes and spirals of sacred geometry and rhythms like the blooms of Tulips...

Ah! The Female Spirit! So as intangible as a concept and abstract as a thought that I can only begin to speak of it by addressing the...

Many say that there is beauty in the struggle. I disagree. Because, Struggle looks like hoards envelopes of unpaid bills shoved in the...

Ink runs over my hands, filling in the lines of my fate that are embroidered into my palm as it travels. It is white, unusual for its...

I started a ‘Wreck this Journal’ today and on its cover glimmered a single statement that forever changed my entire perspective on...

16 was a pretty magical fucking year. I rose and fell. I was trapped and released. I died and I dyed and resurrected several more times....

Since birth, it has been stamped, by iron-clad work shoes and barefoot beggars feet, that we must give, and give fully. Some argue that...