definition | one sentence story

If I didn’t define myself for myself, I would be crushed into the perceptions and constructed fantasies of others and eaten alive. ~Sammicakes

Canvas | Poem

I felt nothing So I could feel anything I’m a canvas Paint your thoughts onto me Shape your dreams onto me Let me dry up before you try to take it back Take it all back Take it all back ~Sammicakes

Fully Grown | Song Verse

Now I’m on my own Now I’m fully grown Never thought I would be What you need me to be And, no, I’m not alone But it feels that way Never thought it would matter As much as it does– But it always does I breathe in the air And know this is all meant…

mind movie | poem

I play a song from my least favorite album of yours and start to drift until my lips are numb Until I’m in a new dimension, my consciousness feeding the life force of bodies and pretty flesh creatures Exploring every facet of their potential crafting every kiss I won’t get to avoid (This chorus tastes…

comparison | poem

Only competent by comparison I’m trying to keep everything together– but it’s coming undone and saying so makes it no fun Only competent by comparison ~ Sammicakes

pink, blue | poem

I said the sky was pink and you laughed in my face; I asked some other people and they saw the same thing I hung around a little bit longer; then I went back inside ~ Sammicakes

Bold | Saturday Poem

The boldest faces are the ones making the transition from babbles to bubbly speech. The boldest thoughts are spoken aloud from the smallest and high-pitchiest of mouths. The most audacious dreams come from the youthful minds uncorrupted by flocks of fear and failure. As is all things, the newest to come and the soonest to…

worn out words | poem

thoughts travel without passports or permission; love cannot be contained in the human body, so it now grows in the oak trunk of an endless tree. time threads us together in loose, haphazard seams; dreams contain all my greatest fears and fantasies, so now I plant them in the mulch beneath tall grasses to grow…

now they know | stream of consciousness

what could they know finale part 1 part 2 ~ How many lies until I get to open the door to the real world? How many memories must I earn to be welcome to reality? I asked what could they know, I asked myself what I am– and with confidence I can now say it….

Identity | Saturday Prose

There is some sweet solace in knowing that I am a product of love rather than hate, violence. Of the girls past born of my breed, there would be no such comfort. There is good and bad that comes with claiming this skin, but the fact that I exist not as lesser scum but as…