Don’t Fall in Love with Dead Boys is a street-level love story told in the past tense, like a ghost talking about a boy who never really lived outside the chaos. It follows a girl who keeps trying to save someone already halfway gone—dopesick, disappearing, unpredictable, magnetic in all the worst ways. What starts as loyalty spirals into grief, obsession, and the kind of devotion you don’t brag about because it only proves how deep you were sinking. It’s a raw, unsanitized account of loving someone whose death feels inevitable, and how that inevitability worms its way into your own heart until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin. It’s the first chapter in a wider story about the streets, survival, and the brutal tenderness of loving the unloveable.

For the Dope I Don’t Even Do is a multi-perspective descent into the kind of love that turns you into someone you barely recognize. It follows a couple spiraling around his growing dopesickness—her trying to fix what can’t be fixed, him chasing a high that keeps swallowing the both of them. Every hit, every promise, every early-morning panic becomes its own point of view, showing how addiction doesn’t just steal the user, it recruits everyone who loves them into the war.

It’s about doing things you swore you’d never do, loving someone past the point of reason, and realizing too late that you’re bleeding for a substance you don’t even touch. It’s messy, loyal, desperate, tender, and brutal—an autopsy of a relationship held together with hope and collapsing under the weight of the dope that was never yours.

Chronically Unstable: Essays from the Edge offers real-world perspectives on what life on the streets actually feels like—beyond the headlines, beyond the charity brochures, beyond whatever sanitized version people think they understand. These essays take you straight into the lived reality: the cold asphalt mornings, the paranoia that becomes second nature, the small kindnesses that mean everything, the bureaucratic hellscapes, the grief that stacks up like unpaid bills, the friendships forged in survival, and the constant pressure of being one bad moment away from losing everything again.

It’s not a shock-value collection and it’s not a pity piece. It’s truth. Gritty, complicated, human truth from someone who’s been inside the mess and knows how to translate it without glorifying or censoring it. If you’ve been there, you’ll see yourself on every page. If you haven’t, you’ll finally get a glimpse of what the streets really take—and what they unexpectedly give back.