Over punctuating, under delivering.
the boy / the body / and the bloody face In my innocent days yellow house tulips we took the little red wagon to the grocery store
By Cali Loria8 months ago in Poets
gain weight get a flip phone don't look in the mirror like or subscribe let your thumbs do all the talking
By Cali Loria9 months ago in Poets
In college I wanted to be a writer so badly I turned down a paid communications internship with the VP of strategic marketing
my life was delivered to me in boxes that once housed Starbucks coffee bullets I read my own undoing in their long
By Cali Loria10 months ago in Poets
I have slept with a bra on every night since fifth grade when my Mother's discarded Woman's Day told me it kept your
This personal pantropy a parasol for my parasympathetic nervous system the sunlight doesn't think twice before it
I: UPLOADING Jules Francis woke one morning to find he could not feel his legs. On further inspection, his body seemed to have disappeared.
By Cali Loria10 months ago in Fiction
Baby sitter milk maid mother made monster. Man made mistakes every time I let you touch me. I prove I’ll never
When I was a child I prayed first to God then to the Lord then to my own head confused by what the names meant and not quite certain
I would offer you tea, except it would burn the tongue you Needlessly lash my way when I'm Sure, sexy, slumping, slurping on my sorrys
By Cali Loria11 months ago in Poets
From dial tones to dial up that screen name meant to click bait trap we daughters of the 90's sexualized with American
Above the repose vultures pray. Flight feathers fall in funeral shroud. Saint Francis
By Cali Loriaabout a year ago in Poets
