we are standing outside in the dark. there must be stars somewhere in the sky, but I can't see any through the haze of smoke and sadness. a strange orange-ish, red-ish cloud sits on the horizon. my parent's faces are cast in a sickly light and I feel sick. pounding heart, pounding head. maybe it's the smoke? maybe it's the stress. 

my mom takes me to her pilates class. she says I need to leave the house, get my mind...

Thoughts of Mother dive-bomb my mind as I decorate the cake.

"Quiet down, Esther."

Mother's voice echoes in my ears. I keep turning my head to smile at her.

Nobody is there.

My hands shake. The ocean blue fondant stubborn and stiff against the cake.

Like me.

I hear my mother sobbing. I hear the anger in her voice.

I use red edible paint, swirls cascading over the icing on the edge. Mother's anger writhes in my cake.

"Listen to...

Blue-Eyed Girl
It feels like the same day is repeating over and over. Every day feels the same, Daniel thinks to himself. He lets out a sigh.
He was on the bus at that moment. He was completely alone. He had nothing going for him. His love life-- a dead end. Friendships? Non-existent. 
The bus was completely empty except for him… and the blue-eyed girl.
Daniel had always been fond of her. She was usually the only one on the...

I’m dying here,
With these putrid people
And their filthy feelings.
I feel them;
cold hands
Grasping at my throat
And syphoning the life from me.
Piling it on their other hollow trinkets.
So loud,
So violently loud.
Like a wave rising up,
overcoming me.
I am drowning.
I thrash and I struggle,
I plead and beg,
But they don’t come.
They don’t see, 
They don’t understand.
They can swim,
I’m waving to them.
 

Prologue
We spend our whole lives with ourselves, yet we know so little about our own selves. When we are asked, suddenly we discover that we are surprisingly ignorant about who we are, what our powers and weaknesses are, what we are capable of, what our dreams or passions are, what our likings and disliking are. This is what happens to most of us.
In our life, sometimes we need someone else to discover ourselves. There are some traits hidden...

Thoughts of Mother dive-bomb my mind as I decorate the cake.

"Quiet down, Esther."

Mother's voice echoes in my ears. I keep turning my head to smile at her.

Nobody is there.

My hands shake. The ocean blue fondant of the cake displays my sadness. My confusion. My anger.

I hear my mother sobbing. I hear her anger in her voice.

I use red edible paint, swirls cascading over the icing on the edge. Mother's anger writhes in my cake.
...

"My dear, you're grimacing." Bain sighs, "and now you're scowling." I force my face into an expression of impassiveness. "And now you look like you're holding in some gas." I giggle. That was certainly not what I thought I looked like.
    I am sitting on my rock while Bain paces around me, his rust-brown robe brushing the colorful leaves beneath us. It is a beautiful day. The sky above is grey with the promise of a late-night storm and mist...

I sit in psychology class, slung low across my chair in the back of the room with a single earbud in. I stare so hard at the hooked slope of the professor's nose that I go cross-eyed.

He talks animatedly about Sigmund Freud and his eyes sweep over everyone but me.

Fine. Whatever. My legs sweep out in feigned casualness as I pretend to be deep in thought. However, my mind is painfully blank.

Bored after attempting (and failing) to come...

The place of my origin,
The place where all my childhood memories are safely tucked,
Where everything is in a positive spin,
Where everything is carefully constructed,

My dreams grew like a rose that was slowly blossoming,
My heart soared like a shooting star that glazed across the sky,
My future was really promising,
And my joy was above up high.

Where the nights were pitch black,
But still had enough stars to shine through the darkness,
Even though the...

The sky’s painted with beautiful, delicate strokes of red, orange, and yellow,
It’s so bright and yet,
You can’t seem to turn away.

You’re so sad about the sun setting,
ending the day with a last flourish,
A day you won’t be able to repeat,
Slipping out of your hands with a wave of nostalgia.

But do not worry, my friend,
As the sun will rise again,
Brighter than ever tomorrow,
As the day starts all over again,

Repeating over...

Exactly fourteen flowers, every Tuesday. At first, I thought that
they were for his girl, but they're not. Because he never
takes them in the direction of town. He walks them west,
toward the outskirts of a provincial community driven by
small-minded ideas. West, toward the country and the miles
of blowing grass and open sky. West, away from harsh realities.
No, they are for his little sister, who passed away last spring.
A wild bouquet for a free-spirited girl.
...

hold my hand, please watch me pray
as I bow my head to let my demons away
a tear slides down my pale cheek,
just know that I will rest inside your generous peace
and when the snow falls
or the tide breaks
when the wind blows
or the heat bakes,
remember is all I ask of you
remember who I was 
and what I was to you
It is in this promise
that I will soon return,
all of...

• a piece that answers the question “why do they call it ‘falling’ in love?” (StellaBlue)

you are f
             a
               l
                 l
                   i
                     n
                       g in love
wind whooping in your ears ...

    Cold water can be both black and white. The white is when it snows. The delicate snowflakes are snowing down in your backyard, calling out to children like a temptation that they cannot resist. The snowflakes sparkle and glint in the cool winter morning, catching light as it slowly falls down. The snowflakes are like angels singing to you, singing their heavenly tune, giving good luck to everything it lightly touches. In the trail of snowflakes, happiness lingers through the...

My shoulders shrugged upward until the sleeves of my ragged sweater grazed against my cheekbones. Softly, but firmly. I let them stay there, only for a moment, just to feel something out of the ordinary. Then I quickly slid them down my back. My vacation from my usual tenseness had ended. I now felt so out of place in my own skin, every inch of me seemed to burn. Not a quick burn, like carelessly sliding your hand into a...

It was raining today. Catherine sighed as she stared out the front window at her freshly painted porch. She'd paid little Jacky Brian and his partner in crime Trey Booker twenty dollars to do it just last week.
    She loved her porch. It was picturesque with its hanging baskets of bright purple and red flowers; the little fairy garden knick-knacks children would bring her for Christmas from their grateful mothers, and the grand sunflowers growing in their patches on either...

    The first attack started about a month ago in May, and soon after, the world population began to decrease to the thousands. Now only I am left in this sullen town; I think, at this point, I don't know who is alive, dead, or under Its control. It came without warning or cause; the first ship was discovered in Utah, the next in Zimbabwe, and after that, it was like every day, another was found. Humanity was stupid; they wanted...

How do find pretty things to say?
it's like you like the way lies taste
you get high off heartbreak
I know you love the way you hate

What do you get when you cross Smaug and a Nazgul?
    A Wing-wraith

Two ships wade through a stunted river
Two foldable chairs nailed to the deck
Two sheep standing on a matted hill
and the summer wind has blown into their ears,
jolting them awake
They will run too far to call back
Not even the frantic dog sees:
it was all
too white, too heavy

Apparently, I left my shirt at your house. I noticed it on your bed, green with its soft ribbed texture. And I thought, Hmm, must be his. Because I would never forget leaving my clothes at your house.

You brought it back the next day in your backpack. Chided me for leaving it behind. "Well, I thought it was yours," I said, as if you wear anything other than t-shirts and tuxes. 

I don't take it out until I'm back...

A stark white page, probably lined.
A pen: grey, or sometimes blue.
A clock:
2:51 am.

Thoughts,
too many to count,
too many to tame,
too many to justify.
Words,
too few to make the reader understand
just how I feel in this
moment...

i n f i n i t e
l o s t
w o o e d
p a i n e d
l o v e d
f o r g o t t...

Are you listening?


My gutteral screams bounce off the walls onto deaf ears.
My torment is not for your entertainment,
though the laughter has an almost etheral sound.
The metallic taste of blood on my lips blooms
as my lungs swell with roses.
My veins are filled with rainwater,
but all is fleeting, because my blood isn't beautiful.
It's always just been red.
You sing hymns as I drown, but this is not salvation.
It's always just been death.
There...

    Lydia’s raven-black hair was styled in glossy, twisted curls and tucked under the mustard yellow hat on her head. The warm, afternoon shadow only highlighted her soft features, resembling her mothers’ to the point of being unsettling. Eyes glowing, cheeks rosy with an amaranthine hue, silk dress embroidered with lace and daisies and dainty charms. 
She, a lovely rose with her smile and intelligent brow and lissome figure, seemed to make the others fade away. She belonged with the...

I was bitter.
Bitter as lemons,
as a cold winter morning,
as the widow who lives by the sea.