Inside I’d be empty if not for this doubt. I’ve tried more than plenty to just pour it out. It sticks, and it stains, it refuses to pour. It hurts, and it pains, and I want it no more. But how can I empty this doubt and be free, when plenty of empty still lingers in me?

I hear your cosmic frequency and feel you through the verse. Receiving all your signals here, at 30 megahertz. I listen closely, feel your vibes, and hear you when you speak. We resonate together now in something that’s unique. The fabrics that we stitch together spread through all of time, but they were always our creations, never were they mine.

When you come to a fork in the road if intentions are not clearly known. By letting go fear a path will appear to guide you along your way home. Fork was originally published in the Tiny Seed Literary Journal.

I used to be the number Nine (uneven orbit, and inclined). But over time, so much had changed. To redefine, left me estranged. A core of rock, and crust of ice, crevasses deep that cut and slice. An atmosphere that comes and goes, and fields of magnets no one knows. My heart I bare for all to see, throughout the system, cosmically. But still, a planet I am not... A lonely object you forgot. Until the day a poet said, with passion, vigor, as he bled; A planet thou no longer ar

When I was just a speck of dust and floating through the verse, I dreamed that I'd become a planet, vast and more diverse. As luck would have it, there I grew— and grew, and grew, and grew— embracing all this “gravitation,” now I’m round and blue. Across my surface flows a liquid integral to life, and as it spreads it cuts through rock, and slices like a knife. It nourishes organic compounds energized by light a rather simple molecule with rather complex might. Without this l

We wilt, we suffer, we burn, and stumble. We melt, we break, believe, and crumble. We lie, we cheat, pretend, and deceive. We damage, we rust, we tear, and unweave. We shatter like glass, then dissolve into sand. But it’s all so beautiful once we understand.

Within my mind exists a place with pink and blue Dalmatians. Where noble knights stand up to fight, decreed emancipation. Where I can fly a cardboard box and master aviation. And sore beyond the stratosphere in full perpetuation. A place where I can be a star within a constellation. Or maybe even be a spell, a wizard’s conjuration. Where I can draw a masterpiece to help spark inspiration, then hang it up upon a wall, an Escher tessellation. A place to do just anything in any

When we were all but seedlings and the world was still brand new, the skies were never dark for me and that’s because of you. The winds were never cold for me no matter where they blew. And nor the sun too hot for me without the morning dew. The clouds were never gray for me their colors always true. The bees were always kind to me, the other insect’s too. The love I found surrounding me was something that I knew was all because you grew with me as I grew there with you.

We hold perfection in our hands but never questioned why, as beautiful these flowers are we’d rather watch them die.

I’ve denied this fact for far too long, but now, I clearly see. All I want is to embrace the darkness while someone else embraces me.

My soul begins to resonate when thoughts of you perpetuate. I sense the eyes that gravitate and force my mind to concentrate. I only slightly hesitate before I start to orchestrate a stunning wave that I’ll create to fill the air and propagate. The mood I wish to cultivate is something to appreciate. With this I mean to implicate to you my life I’ll dedicate.

Within the darkness there she lies afraid to sleep or dream, the little girl who's all alone and hears the demon's scream. He quickly binds her when he finds her, hides behind a guise. A precious little girl you are, now listen to my cries. He speaks the words sardonically, prepares to take her soul. She cannot move, she's paralyzed; no longer in control. The demon's grin is cunning, and she wants to scream and shout. She tries with all her might to yell, but nothing will com

Inside this room I’m sitting here reflecting on myself. The only tattered, lonely book that’s lying on a shelf. The one you never came to hold, and so, you overlooked. The one you never came to read, and so, I never hooked. The one that never came to be a prize or idolized. The one that still contains its secrets and all of its lies. But now you see the trouble is that all the words are gone. I’m nothing but a flightless bird, a useless paper swan. So, if there’s nothing left

We look up toward the heavens, and see them floating by. We have come to know them as Giants in the Sky. They mesmerize and hypnotize, and make us feel so small. But they exist within us, everyone and all. Some have come to call them gods these distant burning fires. And all our souls can be set free within these giant pyres. They have their own mythology that spans through all of time. The Alpha and Omega, and the ever-perfect Prime. It doesn’t matter what you call them or w

I sit upon a nimble branch a sparrow just pretending. I see a path in front of me that’s narrow, never-ending. I contemplate what I should do; a bird just comprehending the evil songs sung in the night with words so condescending. Liar! Cheater! Freak of nature! These tether me intending to take the air from under me, a feather left descending. So here I sit all by myself alone and recommending another song to listen to this tone is too offending. The singing stings and penet

Within what we perceive to be the tiny exists a reality so vast and so diverse, for a single blade of grass is a galaxy and a lawn the universe.

The more that I think it, the more that it scare me. The more that I do it, the more it prepares me.

I once had a teacher who never once taught. And yet, from that teacher, I learned a whole lot.

She once was a flower held firm in my grip. And still to this hour my favorite two lips.