Written by Jacob Ibrag

I want to inject my thoughts into your

veins, only then will you know the source

of my disdain. You’ll tell me one thing and

 illustrate the opposite. How can I take a chance

on us if all you provide is misdirection? The

other day, you called this a project, ‘maybe

we’ll work or likely just falter.’ I refuse to wait

around while you try to figure it out. It’s time

that I got serious with myself. I’m done with

your hollowed promises. This puppet

has retired her strings.

Photography by Marta Bevacqua