The snow covered my soul just as much as it covered the porch. They both were cold, one to the touch, the other to the
I want to tell you a story about a short stout woman who lived on the island of Lemnos in the Aegean Sea. She fished
I built a story that was tall and wide, stretching across miles of land like the Great Wall of China. I did not use brick
i am unfurled unwrapped by life’s hardships, joys and mysteries. without understanding why, i have lived without a name. Unfurl
i’ve decided that i don’t want to write, not with my hands anyway. i want to think words onto paper and screens and leaves and
i am the stream… of consciousness. it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means
i will save words for you. bottled and pickled words for you. then feed you synonyms of me, so you will always remember my taste.
I had a satchel filled with poems that I tossed into the sea. I wrote them on tiny circles and squares and rectangles woven with
I spilled ink across the blank pages of my notebook. It was then that I decided to write stories with my fingers.
The words spill from my pen, blood red, no longer wanting to be ink, but to be life. The words follow me into my dreams.
We all seek freedom in one way or another. But in the end, we live in an age where none of us know what true
i hide inside myself, in the dark corners of memory, in the light of a thousand what-could-have-beens.
The words leave, drifting atop my misconceptions. I am looking backwards. Why did we come here? Was it only to see if being human was
In the space of memory resides the fence we stand atop, teetering on the edge between hard ground and water. In that space we remember
Writing Prompt: Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt. Expectation. I am sometimes filled to overflowing with a cauldron of expectations. Ideas
The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding
i am split apart, opened wide like the Nile and equally as filled with memories of life and death and history flowing through ancient cities.
I have lost the words, their life force spilling at my feet after slipping through disconsolate fingers. The letters tumble and roll, trying to find
Good day folks. For those who are unaware, I am also a website and graphic designer. Below is my latest creation, a movie poster; my
Strong, sturdy hips receive hungry thrusts. Authentic sex is not for the weak. Fainting hearts are not welcome here. Moans crescendo, vibrating leaves and rippling