Saturday Storm | Poem

Raindrops sound like knives leaves pile up and worms wriggle free, thrive, in the storm I sleep, I survive ~Sammicakes

Missing Mornings | Poem

Stainless steel left a stain on my skin Not sure where the pain stops and my body begins Oh, please, please let me in seeing you again–you’re a friend Now I won’t ever get to get you and I don’t think I will ever get you But that don’t mean I won’t ever miss you…

Musings on Love | Volume 1

~Sweet, Speculative Dreams~ In this life I’ve come to know many types of love. The terrifying, the profound, the kind, the cruel. The fleeting and the everlasting–the sun’s raging heat and the moon’s light of ivory cool. And in your warm, fluttering hands upon your deep, sweeping chest, you hold them all. ~ Fractured Hearts…

Whole Lotta Love | Poem/ Song

It takes a whole lotta love to come back around to see the world as you need it to be I can’t spend more than a day wondering if you’re okay I can’t spend more than a minute thinking about how much I did or didn’t contribute to your society ~ 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….

man of shadows | poem

there is a preponderance of darkness tonight, yet still the yellow lights stream through the road clear some transient shapes form and shift depending where we place our fingers let us construct a man from the shadows of my and your form, from the shadows of the sharp-topped homes, from the shadows of the long…

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…