These are my writings.
Splintered glass of mind Shattered mine Memories like quicksilver slip from my thoughts Playfully dancing in pools of words It dares to reflect, my painful game So to learn that which brings A bit of cohesion Memory of me It melds this mirror of my mind What is it that I own that is...
Alfred gingerly squeezed his granddaughter’s shoulder, a hollow assurance, he knew. “The hour is old and yet this wretched siege still bays its horn.” “When is it going to end, Grandpa?” “Soon I think.” “Really?” Elsa perked up with a bright smile, a contrast to the dark hour. “Do not let joy win your...
You wish to feel You wish to be You wish for everything Then pay the fee Broke you say Not a penny or a dime You have a soul Then rich you are to me You wish to feel You wish to be You wish for everything Then pay the fee A little soul...
Laughter of the vile echoed down her narrow alley, a path brimmed with stench and decay hacked into the eclectic grid of the Chelsea District in the great New York City. Cassandra lifted her head at the hollow sound. Her heart throbbed ever more quickly, claiming her mind with an urge to flee. The...
Cardinal sins of the divine Cannot force the benign Even with teardrops dry Echoes of vain remorse Celestine words chiseled with despair Calamity of the soul unveiled Plagues the sanctity of the sacrosanct The shrine inspires no hope The water pure no more The pulpit shakes and cracks The pews laden with dust The...
Arhat Written in conjunction with the Watermill Grimoire Project. “Welcome to the Archive. I am Arhatta, but if it suits you call me Arhat.” Stillness kept the calm soothed, stillness of my heart, untouched by calamity, vice, or vitality. Death not kin, but rebirth conquered by the brahmacarya, by the culmination of life. “I...
King Bamci Written in conjunction with the Watermill Grimoire Project. My palace has fallen, my subjects gone, but my family is with me. At least I have solace. I was from the Singa Raja Palace. I was King, I am King, but with no throne. “Call me Bamci.” He scratched his shoulder, his eyebrows...
Cikopich Written in conjunction with the Watermill Grimoire Project. “Ha, I escaped the flame and the bity ity tatanua floats away. No harm to me. The soul whispers death to ears. I’m Cik.” Rattling in place, as he shifted from foot to foot on the paved floor, Cik broadened his smile to a splendid...
