hi, i'm alayna.
i'm a poet ☽
paint me into a hypocritical portrait.
do you know what it’s like to say goodbye to someone whose hello makes the sweetest sound? if you were to ask me how to let go of connections
i cannot attach to anything in present time.
peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, but i still cannot pull ripe blackberries from their stems without hooking my pointer finger on a protruding thorn.
a demonstration of personality suffocation.
when you feel as though you cannot fit the mold that the world sets forth in front of you, sidestep what you are given and
i talked to my dad in a dream.
my dad asks me to tell him why i doubt permanence and i do not dare tell him it’s one of the repercussions i have to face as a result of
5AM Morning Routines Don't Impress Me.
I see it all the time—it being this notion that early mornings are the key to success. You know what I mean? I mean… The narrative that five o'clock in the morning is a magical hour that yields utmost productivity can be found in all the corners of nearly every online space.
people called me quiet so often
my name is alayna, but i used to get called quiet so often that i may as well have been christened inaudible at birth. there was a time in space
What Have I Gotten Myself Into?
Like clockwork, the sun steps aside in the city of Seattle, letting rain fall ferociously from the clouds above. Sitting in her BMW, Geneviève fumbles her car keys as she attempts to exit her vehicle.
why was it my responsibility?
butterflies floating around my head, i am encased in a lepidopteran halo. sometimes, i wish i had silk-like wings to flutter