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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The model smiles with full, gorgeous lips, a string bikini clinging to her perfect body, her curves alluring and impossible. She is posed on a magazine cover, a picture of everything I’m supposed to be. She is the lie I believe. I’m staring at the magazine on my shelf, crossing my arms over m...
  • Hot Topics > What Matters
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    I was the girl with wild black hair and light green eyes with the beautiful ideas of life. The wind never blew, the leaves called and beckoned to each other. Branches never hung to the ground, they were REACHING, reaching to catch the crumbled leaves scattered like brown sugar on the soft green gras...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Choking stench rises with the amorphous smoke. My trembling wishes amputated by a single stroke. Before it descends, there are no signs. Everything is crystal when the sun shines. There are no omens. The clear glass is obscured by the fingerprints of a thousand demons....
  • Opinion > School / College
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    There are few feelings less droopy than the hangover that descends the morning after writing an essay until 1:00am. Not only have you stayed up late, your creativity is as dry as a desert at high noon. Every agonizing point you slowly drew out, hoping, praying, pleading with God that somehow you...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It was late summer, on of those hot days with a bleached sky and red faces. We were at the pool, but the water was so crammed with bodies that it was hotter and sweatier than the air. We stretched out on the pool chairs instead and watched everyone pant and splash. Missy was laughing at something I ...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    My image of myself was perfectly acceptable. I was a short, dark-haired, light-eyed creature with my head in the clouds and my hands wet with ink. My hobbies were uncontaminated by science or mathematics: writing, acting, dancing, singing. Some science and math crept into such practices, of course, ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I stare through the world as if my eyes are immortal. As if every woman in this world, every man who was born, could see. I strut on the dirt as if I couldn’t be buried in it tomorrow. And if I don’t look closely I can believe that no one has died. It’s easy to breathe only the a...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I love this land but in the black of night I can convince myself that I love anything even worms have a sort of poetry in the moonless gloom rustic grass straw and gold and bleached green wind rattles smell of sage, earth, man content history yes, these lands have never forgot...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A witching hour! Night has fled, but morning has not come. The moon already disappeared, the crickets already stilled. If half an army of kindly sprites marched across the sky, it would not seem uncommon here, I’d simply wonder why. Oh! The stars are heavenly bright, the sky is pitchly black. A co...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    waterfalls of wind thunder under night cold stars and velvet sky warm my heart to flight O! a mourning howl echoes my own soul’s wail so long I have wandered under blackened sail dawn draws close I almost can believe that I am loved and lovely and soon will find reprieve...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    It was a blue house of no beauty, just faded boards and a tattered roof. The lawn was wild with prickly growth, a few straggling wildflowers offering the only soft color to the sun-bleached tangle. The gravel driveway cut through the weeds like an oblivious tourist, unaware of the landscape it wa...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    In a moment of aching loneliness I bared for you my soul My heart naked in your hands, I spoke of my crippling weakness, my ugly secrets. you listened with gray eyes and pitied me and I hated you for knowing but - not so much as later when you took my bleeding heart and taunted me with my...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    The statue of iron was made of wax The oak was made of pine The people I saw wore wooden masks And their love was bound by twine...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    ink stains on paper like moon in the dark black lines like knives and like friends and like scars song in my ears like a crow and a lark my condemnation, my comfort the poison, the cure a book in my hands at midnight....
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    How sweetly imagination Coaxes out the soul Beckons beyond the lengthy reach Of timidity’s control Simplicity both its statute And its eminence Between the scholar and the child It has no preference...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    “Oh, to die, For this breath to be my last!” you find a martyr’s nobility in uttering it. as if you find an obscure pride - in death. wanting it brings you secret class an upper hand, a dark importance, above the happy chattering of others. You are as you seem: a body, lying on t...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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