exploration of family, mental-health & death through the lens of a haunted Moroccan vacation in a sleepy, seaside town.

blue pearl

i’m proud of never coming out,
of never needing a reason to cry
“queer!”

pride

i'm chewing through the plastic of my retainers // biting back the grief of a childhood gone bitter 

loss of a childhood (plastic grief)

city of mine

august 2202. dusk. a girl, lonely, horny, wanders through a sleepy, seaside town from the Morocco of yesteryears.

la perle bleue

i am staring at the chair i’ve sat in // since i was old enough to eat at the adult dinner table // wicker back cleaved in two like fault lines 

wicker back

my country is

   dandelion-dotted, 

      butterfly hot-spotted fields,

plucking primrose and chicory off the side of the highway

to feed the birds breeding in our attic-turned-aviary.

Country of Mine

fill me up with the good stuff // the kind that softens the hardness of the shell i’ve encased myself in // since twelve // 5-12 // that’s my birthdate // but it used to mean something more // before everything became nothing //

golden frankenstein girl

The Green & Red House, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, February 15, 2020: “Chapter One: Suzie, Do You Copy?” of Stranger Things Season 3 plays, abandoned, in the upstairs bedroom.

february 15, 2020

i stop & smell the violet bullets 
that litter an otherwise-unremarkable plot of land.

dame's rocket

i dream of // eve babitz LA // sticky motel // hallways strewn with jacaranda blossoms //

motel

there was once a gecko girl trapped in a palace.

gecko girl gone cold

a state bombs a block of ancestral homes 
halfway across the world

ghost story

growing up a girl in a house
made for keeping us locked away
from The Outside™,
all i had was my
imagination.

barbie girl (what was i made for?)

would you like a spoonful of glitter 
in your cup of black coffee?

barbenheimer

pigment violet & violent // atop virgin skin // burgeoning with blemishes & clothed in a detergent scent // 

only an illusion

garden

starry palmful

i had a wet dream about harry shum jr. puking his guts out // & now i wanna throw my whole brain out the back of this burning tour bus

hopeless fairy dream girl

I’ve always felt akin to G-d. Maybe not Them, per se, but definitely one of Their favorites, a chosen one not unlike those I’d find front-and-center of the countless YA dystopian novels I tore through as a preteen. 

I'm No Girl, I'm...

come inside! we’ve got so much to show you!

Natalie D.C.

Books

Selected work