darklines
the lines blurred as i learned,waiting at your knee foracknowledgement.this isn’t real. here i am.here you are. andhere you are not.i broke my bones workingtowards you, bound them backtogether,hopeful, waiting, desperate,for your nothingness. listen
Weekly Update: A Poem, A Recording
It’s been a minute. I swear lately, I do one thing, I look away for a minute and it’s been six weeks. Anyway, just popping in to update you on the latest. If you use Medium, you can read my Valentine’s Day horror-esque poem here. If you prefer to listen to me reading it, you…
Poetry Share: New YouTube Channel
Well, it’s been a while. I think since I last posted I’ve completed half a business degree, but that’s not all. I’ve been in a creative rut for months and decided I would start looking at my poetry differently. Instead of only doing the poems as written text, I’ve begun reading them aloud, ASMR-style, then…
a minor act of defenestration
the sleuth watched from upstairs,a hidden alcove giving them adiscreet viewpoint as a minor act of defenestrationwas committed.the smartphone landed withbarely a sound. gritting their teeth against triskaidekaphobiathey made their way down the thirteen stairs running into the matriarch of the house,an agelast with a blank gaze. she sighed, must you continue this dolor on my home?the sleuth…
petrichor
the detective doffs his hat,observes the petrichor rich in the air -the window’s left open, careless,it rained last night, a real deluge,someone tells him.he slips into a state of accismus,observes the patterns of the uxoricideto which he was called and askedto solve.some overlord’s hand at work, he thinks,builds a profile,watches for someone to confecttheir story.
vulnerable
she collects pebblesuntil her hands are stiff. her fingerscramp up from inspecting themand her skirt pocket tears awayunder the weight. at home she tucks theminto corners, glues themin place. triesnot to breathe in the fumes. the leather satchel is torn,strips of material peeling awayin placesand she kicks it under the desk. home is familiar,with its…
vanished
the glass acts as a type of portal, separating ancestress from descendant. it’s been passed down over the centuries, held onto for dear life and handed down when the call came. the story is that the first one to live out the myth managed to enchant it in her last mortal act, and now the…
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