I feel that this poem needs an introduction and a trigger warning. This society portrays women as end goals. Things to be achieved. Objects to be won. It tells men that there are winners and losers and nothing in between. I have heard that there are rapists out there that don’t know they’re rapists. I can start to understand how that’s ( Read more... )

I love Granville Street
clubs on a Friday night. They
are a cure for hope.

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My heart is not as black as crude oil ( Read more... )

In France a French kiss is just called a kiss.

In China, Chinese food is just called food.

And here in my heart, your name means love.

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The other day in December I heard two old men talking on the bus ( Read more... )

Everyone hates being little ( Read more... )

2/30 ( Read more... )

1/30 ( Read more... )

If you’re a machine gun, I want a subscription to your magazines. It wasn’t so much a loss as it was a purposeful unwin. Entropy keeps us all from becoming palindromes. I want the beating you give me to end up on posters. Your eyes are the colour of my favourite flavour of life savers. No matter the time of year, you are a summer drink and I’m ( Read more... )

Dance ( Read more... )