sometimes i feel like tearing my chest wiiiiiide open because that way you could see my soul gasping in the great expanse sometimes i feel like staring into the sun and speaking out in the tongue in which it speaks to me sometimes i want to scream until i cough up blood and phlegm so…
Category: Creative
Moment
I used to go by a different name. It’s been so long that I’d nearly forgotten. The other day, I was out somewhere when someone said the name. I turned because it seemed like someone was speaking to me, and they were. I didn’t recognize it at first. It took my mind a few…
A Writer
A writer writes: That’s what writers do If you’re writing something, then you’re a writer too Whether it’s a fiction, biography, or poem Or just a love note meant for a partner back at home Sometimes we overthink things, and sink inside our gloom That to be a proper writer, we’re locked inside a room…
Can’t
I was in seventh grade, or maybe eighth, when the girl in the fuzzy sweater told me I was cute. I still don’t know why she decided that I was going to be her boyfriend. I was awkward and out of place. I don’t remember ever fitting in, and certainly not with the girl in…
Trump and Family (filk)
(To the tune of “The Addams’s Family”) He’s selfish and he’s creepy He’s grabby and he’s peepy Let’s hope he’s getting sleepy It’s Trump and family His wife is kinda dour Gaslighted and so sour Was it worth it for the power? It’s Trump and family Slick! Sick! Small dick! And don’t forget the daughter…
Fragment
“It might just seem like a pointless detail to you, but it’s a symbol, is what it is.” He leaned in close to me, so I could smell the garlic and cigarettes on his breath. “A symbol of who I am. A cog in the machine. But not just any cog, oh no. A rusty…
My story began before I did
My story began before I did, Written on leather and linen, Papyrus and stone. I was born in the taint of the oppressor Stained white with a fabricated purity Invented by men Then forced into the mouth of God My story was hammered into drying clay Like pigeons’ feet Dancing Across the centuries. My myths…
Reflection
Today, I am a hero to a gull. And probably a sparrow. Coming out of the Target on John R, I saw a gull attacking a heavily greased brown paper bag. He wasn’t getting very far, and was clearly frustrated. As I walked over to look in the bag, the gull flew off to a…
Reflection
On one of my routes home, there’s a signpost to which has been affixed a stuffed animal and a plastic figurine of an angel with the head of a little black girl. It’s bleached now from the sun, and the stuffed animal has gotten raggedy from the weather, and the desolation of it gives me…
Another page
i did not dream so deeply as i did that night, when beneath the cloudless sky, the moon perched within the chill of air, an ocean dotted with infinities of stars sleep came ragged, but the dreams washed over me and pulled me deep into their undercurrent dreams of my childhood, drenched in clarity, picked…