satchel of poems

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 jute, some in permanent gold ink, others lovingly stitched on over the course of many sunrises and sunsets.…

ink spill

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

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. There, I am sky bound. Landing is a matter of chance.

freedom

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 freedom feels like. We’ve never lived it beyond our mind and flowering imagination. Although I don’t know what…

i hide

i hide inside myself, in the dark corners of memory, in the light of a thousand what-could-have-beens.

existence remembered

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 a strange fad, something new for our soul to do? Or was it something real and lasting and…

parallel universe

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 the moments that embrace us before we have a chance to embrace them. They catch us unaware and…

your lies

Your lies won’t save you from death. You will die anyway. Death is the great truth teller. When it comes, all you will know in that moment is the truth; which is, you will soon be gone, into the wind, into oblivion, into…

little expectations

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 mixed in with opinions and beliefs that don’t belong to me or the soup overwhelm every aspect of…

the thinning web

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 on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones…

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