reality | poem

In my head, jumping from memory to fantasy, just to pass the time, just to keep me happy and alive. In my head thinking of the “what if,” just to pass the time, just to keep me quiet and alive, a brand new reality awaits me, like diamonds, like dimes, like some new old life…

Italian Autumn | Short Story

There is nothing worse than sadness on a beautiful day. Her hands were overflowing with worry, the poor genovesi and liquor coffee at the mercy of her shaky, anxious grip. To travel so far, to sit outside the forno she had spent thousands to get to and barely mutter a word, to be cast in…

bliss | poem

sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of their kiss, upon skin covered loosely in silk and satin. sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of the dewy grass under golden flats, the air smelling of crushed roses and soil. sunrise and a breeze, the bliss of the book that sits between knees, waiting to be read…

Friendship | Prose

The best way to start a friendship is to begin, earnestly and swiftly, sowing the seeds of its ruin. For when they try to escape, the object of your adoration will be entrapped in a garden of thorn-baring lies and intoxicating, ivory snakes, hungry and innocent eyes plunging the adoree into deep, black waters. ~…

adonis atop stone | short story

Ascend the steps to the raised city above, hear those wild and intrepid bumbles and trips over drapes and cloths, hear the bodies of breath as we climb, ducking our heads as carriages fly by, the pillars of white marble standing stoic to catch our trembling hands. All about us are the people and its…

existence in a vaccum | poem

to be taken to a place, a mirrorless world, to say it clearly, a world devoid of everyone save for I. a place meant for me and the colors of my brain, where busy fingers cannot tousle my hair. the songs of the north and the south are deaf to me, the writings of the…

Age of Ages | Poem

Stone way of feeling Bronze way of reacting Medieval way of perception, rather how we are perceived, Industrial way of seizing (Did we miss something from how we felt and how we reacted?) What is our way now? It is: the expanding balloon of the human mind, the mind we all share if shared with…

purpose | poem

not infinite, yet so vast the time upon us is uncountable and magnificent not entirely free to act on our own accord, but sufficient enough to progress never enough time, ability, or will to craft the desired vision of our person but in the constraints one can find purpose as in the murkiest of waters…

Plight of Obsession | Poem

the phoniest of flattery the most lascivious of lies the cacophony of coquettish ramblings: all are the plights of an unreciprocated obsession, not born out of love, but of rabidly ill intent. ~ Sammicakes

Cottagecore | Poem

Pheasants and finches sun-dappled meadows and delicate wishes fulfilled by the dream of self-isolation. Not yet nostalgic not yet the present but instead a dream idyllic that a more kind world would let come to fruition. ~ Sammicakes