Hey there, I'm Ali. I'm 20 years old. I love to write and read and draw and paint and listen to music much too loudly, as long as it gets me away from where I am.


We are both girls, true, but it’s like saying that a nectarine and a watermelon are both fruit. She’s a little tart rolling over the tongue, creamy; I crumble in the mouth, wet and rough.

Daphne Gottlieb, Everything She Asks of Me (via llleighsmith)

(Source: thinksideways)



Fuck me like a roller coaster ride in summer,
or a Ferris Wheel, rising over the body’s harbour, fuck me star
struck & glittery & dumb.

Fuck me for breakfast.

Fuck me like the apple tree in bloom, the yard filled with petals.
Fuck me like the mail woman delivering a hundred acceptance letters



Trying to Remember the Color of the Sky on That September Morning, 2014

watercolor on paper, 2,983 individual squares

Installed at National September 11 Memorial and Museum, New York City




The Ferguson City Council convened for the first time since Mike Brown’s death, and proved that they literally give no fucks about what the community has to say. Added to their vague, paltry proposed reforms, seems real change will have to come in Ferguson via the ballot box. I don’t care where you live folks— let this be a lesson in voting/participating in your local elections and government! #staywoke #farfromover 

My people getting it!

these people are the real heroes. not the military, not politicians, not the Hollywood actors. they risked their lives and livelihoods to challenge white supremacy and institutionalized racism.


Canadian artist Ruth Oosterman collaborates with her 2-year-old daughter Eve to produce vibrant paintings. For each piece, the young girl first doodles on a page with black ink. Oosterman then chats with her daughter as she paints to get a sense of the ideas behind the lines.


Ollie Renee Schminkey - “Two Twin Beds”

"Loving someone means inventing your own language."

Performing during the Button Showcase at the 2014 National Poetry Slam. Subscribe to Button on YouTube!

Today I was rejected for the poetry contest I entered. I don’t really know what I was expecting anyway…but that’s not keeping me from being disappointed. It would have been really cool to be published. Even making it to the next round and having my poetry publicized would have been the sweetest thing. 

Now I’m going to buy lacy shit to make myself feel better. 

we’re playing a very dangerous game of touching
don’t get addicted to my thereness
no matter how much it soothes you
I promise that platonically sleeping in your bed together
will not cure your loneliness 
and just because I seem to have places to stay
doesn’t mean I’ve cured my homelessness
I told you that I’ve been spreading myself thin
over these people
because it seems more reliable 
to only be cared about temporarily 
but I’ve never met a sheet 
that hasn’t been crumpled and kicked to the foot of the bed 
and that’s what worries me
and the fact that this has happened before—
when people shake my hand for the first time
can they immediately tell I’m a professional bookend?


some sappy sad thought provoking shit
Schenley Drive Bridge, Pittsburgh

just bringing this one back


some sappy sad thought provoking shit

Schenley Drive Bridge, Pittsburgh

just bringing this one back

I’ve been anxiously refreshing my email for DAYS because of this poetry contest

love how this happens, love it