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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    A girl grasps several pages of paper. Torn at the edges and the corners unfurling, her beady eyes dart back and forth across the smattering of black inscribed upon it. With the other hand, her fingers faintly mime full gestures as she rehearses, shutting her eyes tightly and quietly humming an outli...
  • College
    Guide > College Essays
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    “Oh, and another thing is that you get to walk around naked anytime you want.” I half snorted, half laughed as I leaned back against my pillows, pressing the receiver to my ear. “Uh, awesome. What else?” “Well, it’s just nice getting to make your own choices. Whether they’re smart or...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    where I am by myself the body is static. a fragment that is no more than an apparatus to yield the bare mechanics of an apathetic subsistence. at the precise moment of touch, she awakens from a leaden slumber, and blooms into an overflowing amalgamate of verve and life, of sinuous-ness...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Your name has no meaning – only a collection of sounds or a jigsaw of symbols. But when the cacophony of the rigid consonants tumbles out between unsuspecting lips or when my eyes accidentally skim over the perfect combination of letters, I am wrenched into a whirlwind of vertigo and dr...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Before I drift into nothingness, I like to think about the word could. Who I could be, What I could have done, The far away places I could go. I reflect so much on the languor of life That I forget to look for its beauty. While I am dreaming about my perfect being, Where nothing is the ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When a little girl is fast asleep a peculiar creature visits her room. instead of hiding under her bed or inside the closet he inhabits the bookshelf. he pulls out tales about happily ever afters and friendly giants and adventures with fairies and counting stars. he turns the crisp pages ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When I lay curled up in bed in the dark hours of the night, a foreign feeling weeps to me. it envelops my body and seeps into my skin. it is hunger. A hunger for home, familiarity, comfort. For belonging, for shelter. A yearning for something. I do not know concretely what I so longi...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I wish you could listen to the lyric of my tidings, but I am unable to free them from the labyrinth of my mind. I do not know how to translate my chaos into spoken verse, How to release my sentiment when I unfurl my tongue. Comfort lies in someone else's scribbled words and lazy doo...
  • Art /
    Photo > Oil Paintings
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  • Art /
    Photo > Other Images
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