It is sometimes no wonder whatsoever that my breath is bated and my words spared
Okay, Fine. I’m Writing a Book. Send Help.
I want to have the book fully written (not edited, just written) by the end of November, at the very latest. The title of the book is 2203.
A Most Inopportune Time
My muse often visits me at most inconvenient times With two crows making love on a lamppost When one flies into the city to tell Johnny Something of an urgent manner "Finish up your delivery, and we shall move on with our lives" Warm pizza left in front of an apartment Running from the knocks on the... Continue Reading →
My Sister’s Old Bedroom
Fair warning: I did not plan this post, nor did I proofread it. Proceed at your own risk.
The Art of Being
All I can say is, much like this post, I didn't know how it all started, where it went, and I pray it never concludes. All I knew was that I simply was in that moment, and the precise art of being is one to always be sought but never mastered.
Thank You, Daily Post
From the bottom of my heart, thank you Daily Post for being the springboard for my blog, my emotional health, and my fire as a writer. You will be missed, you have done very well. Thank you.
Wake the Brigand
And when all is finally said and done Look back at the path you walked along Remember the places you dragged your feet From exhaustion or allowing yourself grace to be lazy On either side, you built the canyon walls Here and there, some sections were forced to fall From your echoed screaming tongue The... Continue Reading →
A Second’s Inspiration
Flipping each sheet one by one, he noticed a sparkle from the page he had been working on, which now appeared to be gilded on the edge as well. His eyes widened as he revealed the page, which appeared to be covered in oil-slick except for an outline where his hand and pen had been, which was now a silhouette of plain, off-white paper with a dot of smudged black where the ink had dripped. It bled into the slick and swirled into a mesmerizing, spiraling pattern. He dabbed the page with the paper towel he had been using to clean off his pen to see if the page was wet, but even after smearing and rubbing for a few seconds, the page seemed to be dry as a piece of plain paper could be.
Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. VII: They’ll Understand, Someday
Today, the sky is a thicker shade of gray. One that really doesn't let much sun through at all. Not much sun by our standards, anyways... I used to become inspired by the sight of clouds, the smell of rain, the sound of life with a touch of laze. I'd write some music with my guitar,... Continue Reading →
