Earth Angelry
Creative Direction
✤ Styling
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✤ Poetry
Metal Working
Pen illustrations
Machine Knitting
✤ Photography

    ✤ ‘15-’17

    ✤ ‘18-’19


Ode to Joy (Tinder)

Of all the apps I wish to delete

I keep coming back to feel complete

You make me feel                                                                like I’m
                                                                in control

Even though you take a toll

on my mental health

I can’t believe

I’m people shopping

to feel relieved.

At one glance, I decide your fate

You’re not allowed to take me

on a date

Even though I’m so lonely

I want my heart to  s k i p  a beat

Don’t ghost me please, don’twastemytime

I hope my boyfriend doesn’t mind.


Your love language is tagging me in memes

but the accounts are always privated.

You could screenshot them and send them again, but I know you won’t.

So I just say, “haha”

My love language is sticking around -

But patience isn’t exciting, and neither am I(anymore).

So I sit here as the leaves turn, as my finger swipes away the imposters of you.

I don’t love you because I expect it in return.

Our love is not a transaction.

It is a fluid ocean:

polluted by miles and ego, timing and fear.

It is a garden:

but our thumbs are blue now.

And what is a dead plant if not a skeleton of a ghost? A souvenir from given up dreams?

I don’t know, but I desperately want “you”,

and that’s exciting to “me”.

But I’m so tired.

I’m so so tired.

please call me back

Things I need you to know:

In the past year I found out the Wu-Tang clan isn’t a Chinese gang that also makes music.

I hate it when my bangs separate.

One time I paid someone to cast a love spell on me and my boyfriend, and the next day he broke up with me.

White claws are the juuls of spiked seltzer

Broccoli raab tastes like me trying to justify paying my school tuition

sauerkraut is white people kimchi


semen = baby gravy

My kink is when everyone else also fails 😍

Sin is a means of social control.


Olive oil



Squeeze of lemon


Scars you’ve been gifted

by the pavement of our city

are twins with the scars on my neck

A tight hand hold, you pull me close,

you watch my every step

8,651 miles

But I can still feel your stare

Missed Facetime calls

Twinkling red lights

And the bleach still in my hair

The incense you bought me

from the museum of sex

smells of lavender when I’m

ignoring your texts

Screenshots from instagram

you demand I explain

I can’t breathe anymore,

but yet I remain.

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