The Prism of Synthetic Solace
They call this light 'healing.' I call it a well-executed
Cinderella’s Coach
The Fragrance of Synthetic Ecstasy
They call this lavender field a sanctuary, but to me, it’s
The Greenhouse Effect: A Study in Controlled Bloom
They tell us that gardens are places of healing, but I know
The Friction of Synthetic Silk
They say the city breathes in neon and exhales exhaust, but tonight,
Saltwater Sanctum: The Alchemy of Skin and Sand
They call this 'healing,' a quaint euphemism for the slow
The Saltwater Sacrament
They say the ocean is a healer, but that’s just marketing
The Bamboo Cage of Soft Skin and Hard Desires
They call this 'healing.' A bamboo grove, a path of
The Geometry of Longing on Rolling Wood
The pavement is an indifferent lover, radiating a heat that makes my
The Chemistry of Artificial Solace
The sun is an efficient liar; it bleaches my skin until it
The Geometry of Artificial Sunsets
The sun is a vulgar thing today, bleeding over the horizon like
The Geometry of Longing
I stand in this postcard-perfect village, a pastel dream designed to soothe
The Geometry of a Stolen Breath
They tell you that love is a fairytale, but they conveniently forget
