Bronchi, Blossoms, and Branches

Lost loves, lives lost, aching muscles in my chest, and feelings of deep regret for those not yet gone. When I close my eyes, I see a beautiful angel, held against my against my breast and inside my heart. The words of the fallen, most dear to my soul. Love contrasts the harm in my mind, eating me whole. I am a body, but many individuals. I feel so many experiences, and each experience thirteenfold. Each reflection a different lover in conversation with each other, with myself. 

Do you hear the howl in the wind? Do you desire understanding, kindness, and multi-fractured internal reflection held from you? Have you yearned to bleed upon the pages you read and see hopefully a human remaining in the smoldering ashes you read? If so, then do you also know and feel the burn of feral sexual desire tied to the worries of the world stealing your goddess' flower garden intense with passion all melting away in softly in a warm hold? Perhaps it's always internal chaos caused by the unending collision of all of these feelings of: remorse, love, conflict, care, meaning, kindness, attention, loss, and one's sexual being each meeting at the epicenter of our need for survival, safety, resources, passion, beauty, and love. Every one of these feelings, as well as how we always, always, always, *always* cannot help but constantly experience them deeply physically to our body and being, are discussed in the form of various mental deteriorations and bodily fluids poured out tears searing into me, scarring as it tears into the hearts and souls of others upon the page to think about what love I have in my life -- and how it feels and what it means to deserve them. 

A meditation on how every one of our feelings are always swirling around and causing different internal fractures. Bronchi, Blossoms, and Branches is a book about how those splinters of hurt; shifts of love; pain of growth; stabbings of chaos; and the healing of connection can, always have, and forever will be tangled around the same soul orb in a web of constantly piercing emotions that is always whirring and can NEVER be shut down. How does it affect someone to always carry such intense feelings and does it make you wrong or bad for feeling them all so often with such varying degrees of internal conversation, *arguing distinctly as voices*? If not, what does it mean for myself or anyone else to see themselves or me that way, and how do those consequences and emotions take forms that often feel the same? Just as bronchi in our chest weaves, the blossoms flower, and branches become defined separately from the tree of its origin -- we and our souls eventually twist and contort in our personal growth, such that it eventually becomes impossible to detect their origin.

In this book, you will find that the stories and poems in this book reflect the depth of how life can feel like emotional hell as much as it feels like euphoria to grow and feel in this particular world's climate in an attempt to find love all as well, and all at the same time.

As such, through these poems and stories, I hope you find something special to you about what it means to be queer, trans, plural, mentally ill, disabled, hurt, cared for, or otherwise -- what it means for us to be human, in the face of unrelenting, unending, hurt, and...love.

If you cannot afford to buy the book but would still like to read it and support me, please dm me and I will send you a copy of the book for free (': 

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