My darkest secrets and greatest fears are reframed in a world of my own creation. I am myself, no one else, and I must get lost. If poetry is the blood of life, when the world carves and claws, it is poetry that spills out. My process of creation is a most orchestrated accident, much like spilling out.

Here lie the unseen and unspoken identities I have witnessed the world through.
I tell a story, as vaguely or explicitly as I please, of what's traumatic and stuck in my head. I exist as myself within and without it all, in tears and laughter, with fangs, a wide grin and good coffee, kicking and screaming my little truths no one's heard yet.

Thank you ever so for hearing them. -E. L.