ode to the gloriously stanky (that's me, mothafuckaaaaa!)

not gonna lie, expressing myself is hard work sometimes. i'm not some robot spitting out normie platitudes rated e for everybunny. i'm a human and humans are: weird/messy, def imperfect, sometimes gloriously thiccc, & my writing reflects that. it's got highs, lows, & maybe a burgundy loaf or two. it’s kinda like e. e. cummings (lol cummings lol) and his quote about being large with multitudes. can’t i do mental gymnastics and be a hypocrite too, if all the cool-ass dead poets be doing it? 😂 jkjk!

i don't strive for perfection everytime i mindpuke letters into a page; i embrace authenticity. trying to sanitize life is like gilding a lily-shaped turd. i write for the marginalized, the overlooked and tired, the ones who get fully that life is kinda like a gold diaper — everything may seem presentable up front, but the horrors beneath the sheen will gut you. and in fact, im kind of a mastermind of noting, revealing, and describing the shitz beneath the glitz. there’s no mystery about how both of those shits are hidden under gold.

i write for myself and peeps like me… maybe they appreciate a poop joke mixed in with their philosophical chats. if my work resonates with you, yay! if not, that's okay too. i'm not for everyone. 💜