Phantoms have a funny way about mirrors, Don’t they? Vacant eyes are ironic Untouched lips of a semiarid day Sun-kissed skin, ironic Hair abated to dusted gray Dwelling within the brittle space between blackContinue reading
From Even the Greatest of Horrors Irony is Seldom Absent
Lovecraft is eloquently spoken and undeniably gifted, but he is cold, unfeeling, and calloused. This element is what drew me to him originally: his macabre apathy. He writes a world of strange horrors, but heContinue reading
Two Shifts to the Delusion of Glue
I find I judge the greatness of writing by its likeness to poetry. Truly philosophical lines hardly sound anything if not poetic. Typically, I prefer poetry that is a mess of metaphor and aesthetically pleasingContinue reading
Make it Stop Spinning, I’d Like to get off
What if the only thing imaginable That would rip you to fucking pieces Were your reality? It’s the unthinkable The impossible Hold your heart in your throat Choke on the pain Feel it with everyContinue reading
Eternal Dance of the Skeleton and Angel
Hollow bones clang in the limelight Softly, patiently, long limbs of white To a sad serenade for sad eyes Underneath the star sprinkled skies His bones and guilty remembrances Dampened his soul; heart tensesContinue reading
Scrawled on the Flakes of Wallpaper
Silence in the void Antisocial paranoid Corrosive disgust Century buildings bleeding rust Fisheye concentration Moon reflection in wild fixation Smoggy pelts shed silicon hide But their teary eyes have long since dried Remember the blackContinue reading
Writer’s Seminar- Andy Weir, by Lucas and Katy
(As the slides are blurry for reasons that my human brain cannot seem to decipher, here is a link to our slideshow. )https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/14Gz877lu4vl5nqtVJAwTByozMuVzwLn0WpOEukx_X9M/edit#slide=id.g19613260e4_1_5 -K: Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you here today for anContinue reading
Diary of a Piano Tuner’s Wife-Personal Response
What do these texts suggest about an individual’s response to the constraints of convention or circumstance? My father was a strong man. He was strong, not with the strength of letting go, but with theContinue reading
The Trumpet Man
Behind your ears, in dead of night, cultivates your fears, unearths your fright. Can you hear the trumpet song? Few notes of tune, you follow the sorrow, pitied by moon, won’t last till ‘morrow. TheContinue reading