Poems from Before

My bed smells like sweat and my lips taste like you

Your fingers pressed around my neck is all I wanna do

Looking into your eyes can make me melt and blush

When I hear you say my name I turn into mush

-senseless

10.6.18

Can you feel the messages I am trying to send

With my hand on your thigh

Your eyes close to mine

The buzz of attraction in the space between our legs

The experience of flying

And being tied down in bed

Holding onto a speck of gold

Floating down a stream

I thought it would ground me

But still I run through the breeze

Through twists and turns

Contortions of the mind

And sky

I am somehow sitting here

On cloud 9

Comments

Taron Hensley is a Pedophile.

Nine months later I emerge with the hopes of being vaccinated soon. FUcking hell. What a trip. This pandemic is going to require a lot of processing in the future but for now, I want to share and record some things I am very proud that I accomplished over this period of time. I was able to help start and run a campaign to eventually get my high school drama teacher who spread the rumor that I called the cops at a cast party which ruined my social life at that school while stalking me and my friends and constantly trying to get me in compromising and damn disgusting and gross situations. His charm to his superiors and the gaslighting and abuse of students has been heavily weighing on me in a way I have yet to fully deal with. I spoke out in high school and was silenced, threatened, and made to feel unwelcome. Yet the internet and living in a whole separate continent does wonders for confidence. I helped create a petition, gathered testimonies, and launched this campaign with my friends

Rainy Night Writing

There is something quite different about writing when it is raining outside than when it isn't. I despise my frozen toes and fingers, yet I love drinking chocolate almond milk with banana bread. It seems almost enchanting, like creativity is plopping on your rooftop. Writing in the rain, so odd. Writing in the rain It is like laughing during a thunder cloud, in perfect harmony with nature, rhyming and paralleling the weather, writing in the rain, creativity pours from you, as you hear the pitter patter, you wonder where the drops will all go, writing in the rain, a clean slate to begin again, a downpour of ideas, soon to come again, I love writing in the rain.

Outfits of Late Winter, and Early Spring

I hope you liked them!

Project Rainbow

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