Foreward: Readers looking for restraint will not find it here. Readers willing to sit with someone while a lifetime of longing spills out again and again until it finally exhales into a bruised, stubborn, almost inaudible hope, are welcome to stay.

...Enticingly possessive, it can consume me—Control me or comfort me; there’s no negotiating with it...

...This post-soviet provocateur is reflecting back my own aspirations. The artist I want to be, presents as a pencil moustache with braids...

Theme: No one chooses for us. A personal poem about Shannon's lived experience as a person with disability.