Posted in art, poetry, writing


Static 	 	 If we moved millimeters we’d touch, strangers on planes forced in proximities reserved for intimacy. I keep my arms crossed, compacted in self-inflicted binding, hands to myself like they taught us in preschool. I shift a little, stimulating blood flow to my tingling feet, but in the move our skins meet, that man’s and mine. I perceive of his flinch, the jerk away masked in the stealth of reaching for his drink, his repulsion of contact, one second that makes me question  why I fear physicality.

Happy Friday!

Posted in art, Josh Dun Poetry Corner, Music, poetry, twenty one pilots, writing

Take My Hand

take my handIf you’re new to She’s in Prison and like what you see, check out the archives of my Josh Dun Poetry Corner and check back every Sunday for a new poem inspired by Twenty One Pilots!

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