“Each believed that God was on his side, for no one raises a hand without convincing himself first that he is right.”
Andrew Krivak
Blogging burn change dread dream empowered fable forest FSF home Mental Health mother new out poem rant Short Story snow Soul spilled milk survival trigger warning Understanding weighted WPW you you are the universe
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Alone but unafraid.
Harm, the destruction of self. To move on, one must carve out a space. Curate safety. Out of grasp from that which harms. They must take time: Process pain, Regain self, and repeat… until they can broach out again. Afraid but willing. But how much is too much? How many forgivenesses until I no longer… Read more
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The god of your peace or damnation
In a quiet world, what is lost, what is gained? It cares little of how you learn, love, consume, and die in its great vastness. It, too, will die, but it cannot not morn what it doesn’t know, what it will never know. Once there, then not for all that is to come. A breath… Read more
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Rage or Intrigue (2/?)
Always intrigued, inquisitive, and curious. She walked. Well acquainted with harm but healing, always healing. Like the cats that watched her from the shadowed side passages. Intrigued, inquisitive, curious, but cautious. Her path was the same. As the chill lessened, she grew fond of late January. Fond of its clarity. Her temple on the hill.… Read more
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The sinner has returned and must be celebrated
“Hey, is that the moon?” I asked while peaking over the lake, realizing that what originally looked like a part of the pier lights was moving with my vehicle, as the pier fell behind us. “Oh shit, I think it is.” The moon was red, so low on the horizon, and crested at an unnatural… Read more
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If I wasn’t me and you were still you.
If I wasn’t me and you were still you, if the season stalled for space, A place for us two If I could have you, away from fate and time, I’d have you till the end of I A loss I cannot take, a love I could not fear to lose, So I play the… Read more
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For Me Alone In Death or War
You can’t blame her. She wasn’t well. A family member who knew much about me, whom I knew nothing of, assured me. My mother’s pristine porcelain form lay in the casket. Sleeping more peacefully than she ever had in life. My father and I stood next to the casket as prying eyes looked down on… Read more