I generally try to time anthologies so only one releases in a given year. Men in Paper Coats released as a free read January 10th, and that should have settled 2017. But given that each of my anthologies are offered without charge and quietly released later as physical editions, I’m not exactly spamming the market […]Read More ANNOUNCEMENT: “Kilotons Above the Sea”
Fuck the haters and all their spiteful tongues, wiser men than me would quip. They’re just mad that their Makers didn’t make them so diligently, or are displeased with their result. Unfortunately, those are the calluses they feel within their fists. Don’t let anyone make you feel like shit, my mother would quote like it […]Read More The Advice of Others
They promised rags to riches in a series of bait and switches, but I fidgeted through their assertions. I was given purpose in the laziest sense, forging cheques of creativity to finance the mess they’d make in our names. I’m not insane, just a trainwreck; you’d not be incorrect to subtlely suggest I’m slightly disconnected. […]Read More Prosperity in a Vacuum
Sadness is a madness just as passionate as anger, elastic as euphoria. I call it transitoria, passive-aggressive spectrum looking for a retirement score; fashionable fascism creeping in my forum. And there’s really no quota for questionable behaviours, facial ticks betraying any favour I’ve built. My garden of sentences wilts with the enthusiam of bloom, calling […]Read More Wordrot Transitoria
Learning to excel in fluctuating circles of Hell. Think God might’ve brought me here but it’s too early to tell. All the spells I fell under, young, have worn off like cologne and all the places I called home are tainted by hubris. Why do I feel like the lunatic wanting to leave the crazy […]Read More The Anti Villain
There’s a crease in my head. Wasn’t there when we met, fresh-faced, indebted. There’s a crack in my lips. Wasn’t there at first kiss, but yes, my mouth keeps on moving. And there’s a crack in my self-esteem that wasn’t there at seventeen, or years later at twenty-three. God, you should see the organ considered […]Read More You Don’t Love Me Anymore
Alarm clock, cocked like a gun. Numbers that wake you but have no sum. Semi-colon between one in the mornin’ and the 49 minutes you’ve been sortin’ out old photographs, treating each as if made of glass because their faces make you remember to laugh and paper should never feel so broken. These days, there’s […]Read More Gift Hoarse
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Originally posted on Free Verse ReVolution:
Hunger struck me ’round noon, interrupted the process of making room for change, lest the scent of home- made food for thought disturb my dozing- I’m not asleep, but thumbing pages of exhaustion, wondering how the final chapter reads; elliptical Rapture for prayers and their pastors, a tectonic shift…
Listen up! About to drop some knowledge- for all the linguist collages, you are a unifying force. For all your small success, you’re my workhorse of inspiration. Out of bed! This barrage of panic ain’t gonna assault itself. It needs your help to place all its faults on you. Its guilt trip, cryptic messages in […]Read More Art Soup!
There’s sickness in old soliloquies, villainy to the rhythm of words. Sixteen year old (outcast) self makes trainwrecks of most ambitious sentences, leaves the taste of fire in my mouth. Ashen narratives dance with matches that burned them, turned them from ocean waters, extinguished hope as waves would flames. But morning came, empty notebook pages washed out […]Read More A Forest for the Trees (2010)