creative writing
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An Endless Spring
Love yourself & rise anewIn all you dream & all you doBe awake in thought & flameThrough shifting stars & sacred name Today is breath, a whispered lightTomorrow waits in silver nightAnd always, ever, soul shall singA holy fire, an… Continue reading
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Sky Dares Me To Speak
Lonely road aheadSunlight burns into my faceSky dares me to speak The wind aches with loveWhispers stitched in drifting leavesNot meant for just ears Unhuman and vastCells and roots in silent codeConverse with the trees Beneath all of thisA hollow… Continue reading
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An Empty Hand To Kneel To
At midlife, a mirror grows & speaksIts tongue made of fog, its voice a bellWe count regrets like coins in sleepThe brilliance fades, & that’s the spell Through seasons sewn in wax & glassWe walk the halls of things undoneA… Continue reading
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WP Writing Prompt: The Worst Pets
Jeez, the list for this could be long. Practically speaking, many animals in the wild would make terrible pets. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Perhaps what’s more annoying is having an animal that should make a good pet… Continue reading
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Blood on the Wind
A tornado stumbles through the landA glass-eyed drunk with bloodstained handYet, why pretend it bears a faceWhen mercy holds no dwelling place? It does not think, it does not feelIt does not bargain, beg, or kneelIt tears through roof, root,… Continue reading
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Sticky Sweet
Of all the sins that stain the soulLust burns brightest, sticky-sweet & boldWhen Eve bit deep that ruby skinIt must’ve felt like lightning withinA bloom of stars behind her eyesA million moans dressed in disguise Perhaps the serpent wasn’t wrongJust… Continue reading
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Fragments, 4.4.25
In a house of cast-off souls, rust speaks in tongues of boneShelves groan under spines no longer burdened with memoryWhat wears no flesh but fetches the highest price?What whispers secrets in the currency of marrow? ** What runs forever yet… Continue reading
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Sweet Tooth
The rain came down like God had tripped over His own garden hose. Thunder rolled across the suburbs of Evershade in ominous belches, and Nick, the most underpaid cookie delivery driver this side of the apocalypse, squinted through his cracked… Continue reading
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The God Who Wakes the Worms
They say he comes barefoot, leaving footprints of moss in frost-bitten soil. Not summoned, not born but thawed from beneath the world when the first crocus dares to dream. His name is unpronounceable by clean mouths, but the crows call… Continue reading
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Neither Snow Nor Rain Nor Your Eternal Screams
On the dead-end stretch of Hemlock Circle, the lawns were manicured, the dogs were quiet, and the mailboxes were all sealed with holy water and zip ties. Because of Harold. The mailman. He came every day at 3:33 PM, sharp… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 