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Written mid 2017 So it seems, every night, as a dream, She brings to me my respite and misery. Ever-growing, strong and bright; twenty-eight. A dream of light: to live without, I’ve learned to hate. Shrouded breast, a sweet mist blessed, On a sea of clouds she rests. A cycle complete, the ends now meet. What else could satiate? The night is long, yet she is gone, The cold night sings its song. For now she wrests a novel feat. Alas, bygones; I’ll wait, Respectfully and full of glee Behold: the newest twenty-eight.

The Odd World of Jimothy

Taken from this site: link Suffice to say it was a strange world indeed. Here, everything was just the same as your world, except maybe one thing in particular. One such thing that could not be ignored, for it was so peculiar, the entire world becomes odd to us who see from stranger eyes. This one thing was capable of making a fool out of many people, and irreparably scorned by everyone else, to make one outlandish, to seem idiotic, imbecillic, and downright morronic. Yes, it was such a thing that could fell immortal men, and destroy the beauty of majestic ladies, for it was something that brought aught to the playing field that was love and sex, and all politics that surrounded it. It made a man, and woman. It made a grown sop out of them all. And one could do whatever it is they wanted with it, but they could not undo it ever again, under no circumstances whatsoever. And if a mistake was made, it could be the end for one's social life forever, or at least a far more than more t

What happened to our imagination?

Art by Dorian Legret What happened to our imagination? We were once young and filled with inspiration. Creation flickered off our minds and to whatever nothing it then transformed. On every corner, in every place, another sound, another face. The warmth of a reverie, all one could see, was another second we then would waste, playing games, conjuring tales, flying high on colored sails on the open sea of our imagination. Life to some people can only be stomached with substances, or with extreme sports, and maybe to others with dancing or drinking. If you want to take drugs, go ahead; I'm not one to judge. Life, I feel, can be a bit taxing when faced with nothingness, as if it drained and sucked all the joy straight from our skulls with the same intensity a college kid chugs shots to impress the numb-headed girls. What can we do to find some relief in entertainment every day? I mean, work already plays a major part in giving us something to do, and that is fine, really, especially w

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The Deadly Quill

Poetry

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