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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The explicit song of the dead rang morosely through my ears. The penultimate, the peak, As far as I could reach, Before falling. The circadian rhythm of things, The fatty, corpulent love, Everyday, In and out, never quite enough. And here I was thinking of it As I was falling. Sw...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    The floor creaked in my room, in all of the rooms in my house. The floorboards lacked luster and shine, large, unsightly cracks meandering through them. The mint green paint was chipped on the walls. The roof sank and sagged unevenly, leaving bulges and craters in the ceiling. The draft, especially ...

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