Maison Ray

Denver-based writer. Previously in New York to attend Pratt Institute and develop his artistry. With a self-described “violently pensive exploration of the lucid,” Maison tries to invoke an ethereal relation to the world through his work.

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7 months ago
Where, and when did this bloom? Poisonous bud of self-abhorrence. With a grotesque and chimerical flourishing. A sweet-nothing blown into your nose. Delicate sustenance: for the beautifully marred and...
8 months ago
Unsurprised, You let reintroduced animosity sucker-punch you, wanting to like it, But the hurt didn’t hurt the same. Why? Why are you so angry? Why are you so sad? Your best friend is lip balm And the...
8 months ago
We are homesick and we are already home. Soul searching is unnecessary when you let yourself realize you still have one. You are a revolution, However noiseless and stilled, You are a revolution. Sent...
8 months ago
Mai soli, never alone. Touching shoulders at a train station, A habitat of travel that possessed an aura that begged you to stay. One judged another over the frivolous styles of a person's essence. My...
Our Minority
8 months ago
Pursuit. of a creamy, alabaster self-affair. The bona fide, ineffably kind affection, in which even silence is understood. Dignified in our hushed solidarity. Accompanied by impudent spectators’ comme...
8 months ago
Peculiar cough. Recurring affliction, firm in the fire of an uncertain homestead. This obstacle, an ache, of never winning familiarity here: In the dates of trial and unknown, I happened upon you, ina...