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I sit here surrounded by so many distractions. There are so many books, movies, and songs surrounding me. How can I sit here and just write? I suppose I should just shut everything else out in the name of writing. I have to stay focused. If only it weren’t so hard in the digital age! …

Do you find yourself making time for writing fairly easily or does writing bulldoze its way through your schedule and shout, “Pick me! Pick me!” like an insistent four-year old? I feel, at times, as though writing has become a daily part of life. It’s kind. It’s patient. Occasionally it’s overpowering and forces you to…

Sometimes you must have your voice heard. Sometimes you speak. Other times you do not speak. Sometimes your voice is barely a whisper. Other times you can shout until there’s no tomorrow. But always, you are thinking. Always you must think to yourself, “this is my reality. This is not a dream.” Writers have a…

The dreams which wake me Make memories of mere mist Where falsehoods are found. 

And he sat there beneath the stairs and wondered why he would even bother doing this. He’d known her for so long. She loved whitewashed jeans, tea-scented shampoo, and cozy sweaters with the sleeves rolled up tight. He, on the other hand, loved her velvet hair, her  coffee-colored eyes, and her sugarcane smile. So here…

  Sit and feel the world surround you.  Sit and feel the earth below Sit and feel the skies above you Sit and embrace the world you know.  And know that nothing is known, not really.  Know your path still winds away.  Feel it striding, striving, striking  As the skies fade- gold to gray.   

When Halloween is over, never fear! All the stores will try their hardest to remind you that Santa season is just around the corner. Maybe Thanksgiving too. 

  Tonight is the night when all souls leap from the shadows Behind frosted glass and wicked arches they hide They leap they scurry they fly upon the dark winds of the night.  And tonight clouds reign above the orange yellow sun And everything turns murky as little faces peer through the looking glass And into…

It’s the day where I’m thinking back on my visit to the city which I took Thursday night, and I can see the whole weekend stretching ahead of me with  open arms. Here’s a toast to infinity. A toast to weekends. And a toast to precious, dreamless waking! For the weekends are my infinity… And…

  She put her head down towards the ground, muddied, bloodied, a skull weighing fifty ton more than it ought to. The vein on her forehead throbbed as her migraine returned, the one that returned every autumn with a vengeance. Yet now, all she could see were the black-laced branches above her. Howling, screaming, the trees…