Few people know me, but I know many people. That's a skill that comes from living in the shadows and gaining knowledge through observation. It sounds bad, I know, but I didn't have a lot of options.
This isn't right. None of it. I can't say why, but it's all so wrong.
This is a story that I've been working on since about seventh grade. It's a kind of thriller, I guess, but more than that, it's based on relationship, truth, and perception. This is the introduction to four pieces that I will be publishing over the next few weeks.
Today was hard. I almost fell through the door after a long shift at work and instead stumbled to my armchair in the corner of the small living area. My roommate was home--a rare event. I heard her music blasting in the bathroom as she took a shower. I dozed off waiting for her to get out of the bathroom.
I've got another prompt. It's pretty simple, and I hope you'll take the time to write your own version, as that's the point of it.
This is a poem from the perspective of a baby's crib.
WARNING: Profanity/Vulgar Language
This poem came to me while I was helping a friend edit their book. It took some exploration of the idea, honing what it was I wanted to say, but ultimately it fit into a project I had already started. I’m writing a poetry collection exploring the different ways people view or experience death. Each…
A vignette of a sixteen-year-old who babysits his younger siblings over the holidays.
The third part in my series of short shorts about loving but not needing coffee.