Category: stories

What a Night to Write

What does it mean to write? Laying down on my bed contemplating what my next words will be? What would entice a reader to stick through these simple words that would impact them? How would I draw an audience to my work? The questions that plague a writer. I find myself attempting to find proper

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Queen of my Heart

O sweet goddess, you have marked me eternity. Hear my words part and reach tickled ears. Such beauty stretching beyond time and space. Trouble breeding strength and growth into such amazement. Your eyes are the sunset to my dreams. Your voice the melody to my heart. Your touch the calming wing. Catch me in your

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Past change

Speak to me of days gone and I shall incite memories of yesterday to flourish once more. Speaking measures are taken to reignite thoughts and emotions drawn from distances once forgotten. Lest weary thoughts be a prison. Centuries drawn by passing. The past breeds change of the present.

Finding sense

Echoing thoughts raging from whispering silence swelling within. Nights of darkness met by flickering light. Vision disrupt by blurry noises. The paradox of the senses mixed as life finds meaning touched by empty spirits. Vibrating emotions catching the scent of the agent of nothingness. Tales carry home the tolls of finding life in an empty

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Words Of Art

What moves people? I’ve been asking myself the question that seems to spark interest in many people. I’ve been thinking about my work as an artist, a writer, to better help reach an audience. You could say I have those people who may indeed have been following me since the beginning and the real question

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Puzzle Piece

Tracing the patterns of most what most people would never consider. Though these patterns are far more than organized waves of touch, feelings, or thoughts that have manifested into action, I could see them all clearly. Life. I cannot fully explain what has transpired in my life as of late. I recently had to go

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Mental Prison

Wavering thoughts swept by uncertain path. Kept in conscious storms raging amidst tired breaths. Beating chest calling out from the silent darkness masking the arms stretched for escape. Focused eyes staring beyond eternities reach in infinite mystery. Forgotten memory reaching shores of tides swept long ago to new land of future home. The race of

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Obsessive Living

They never warned me how my life would be living with OCD. You would think a warning sign would be placed before my exit out of the womb. This way to a lifetime of instability mentally! I feel like that is the huge welcome I should have received. But I guess you could say that

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