NYC/Baltimore based poetry and nonfiction writer.
I don’t know how to talk about drug use without sounding cliché I don’t know when the time is or where to find the place I was high when my dad called
By Maisie Rapp6 years ago in Poets
I'm extremely tired of beauty gurus and the makeup industry acting like it has to cost a fortune to feel beautiful. I call BS. Here are some of the ways that I cut corners when I'm painting my face!
By Maisie Rapp6 years ago in Blush
The air outside was humid. Crickets chirped while I choked on my breath. I was crouched in a ball in my driveway, panting into the tops of my kneecaps, when a van pulled up outside of my house.
By Maisie Rapp6 years ago in Beat
Cutting between your teeth, I am candy floss. My sugars soak, in the gaps of your gums. The bulb of a tulip hovers over the ground.
Kanye West’s mother died in Hollywood about nine years, eighteen days, and nineteen hours ago. She had gone through liposuction
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