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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    We digress, all of us, to a certain ascertainable state of cognition in our lives. There, in the space of time which could be prceived in contunity as the letting go of things we should not let go of, feeling that certainty fade as our hearts melt, we wonder past the stars and the cosmos.   T...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    There are often things like that. The pages flip by with eager anticipation, like a good book always does, yet there has been nothing, up until this point, to market this as truth. Did you actually read it? And what do I know, the things I might be inclined to say during a plaintive conversation,...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    On the night of his death, you were gone out on the town, and on everyone’s shoulders, especially mine. I had nowhere to go that day. You had no choices, or that’s what you said to me, at least. I had a hunch I wouldn’t believe you, and I don’t. I guess memories are the real ghosts. On my...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    At 11:30 AM the bell will ring (it sounds bad) and lunch will commence. I’ll eat sometimes, but usually, I don’t. There was this girl on a day when I ate who always drew a pretty great picture of something abstract, and she listened to your voice. I’d heard it before on the radio, dr...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    What is poetry? Well, sometimes, when I feel so utterly spent, a little friend of mine will raise his brows from the shelf. He knows many things, or seems to at least. He’d c*** his jaw and beckon me over for tea; he even lets me pick the flavour! So we’d sit on the balcony of his villa...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    There was a city coated in ozone and tears, masked with wave-length upon wave-width of streetlight memories beginning in the summery halls of August. The pine and black-sapped fir trees were far apart, dwelt on the edges of a bird-man’s sanity, beholden to the nobodies who walked its parks. All of...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    You are the simple existence woven into itself to keep us from falling. You ask me all these questions, all these falsehoods in an attempt to quicken the storm under my lapel. You do not relax, ever. Continuity became a second language to you, and on the day she died; I swear, the day she died; you ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s so often I am Pending Approval. Something I’m trying to do Is waiting to be seen. My reasons are less than kairos. The perfect moment is never really a moment but exact time on a wrist-watch drawn with pencil. The paper is thin and I am arguably thinner. My intention is not cr...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I hate Hospitals. The graphite smell of aftermath piano keys strikes these glossy, laminate halls. The terminal illness of after-death hung on the air like it had something to prove; children’s hearts break here, after-words failing to make up for the tremendous loss—the tears swell, lips cri...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Silence in metallic. A bright screen illuminates in a featureless dream-scape. They see me, I don't see them. I stand above yet blow, high up but they are higher. They see me in a light of waiting. They felt it, and I... I feel a sadness, a judgement- they are the Nemesis, but I am the ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When you go back in time, memory films of Thinking about what we did that night with our tongues, Feeling auburn suns and breathing twisted lungs You were thinking, ‘it felt like silk’ And I was blinking back tears of a mixed message; But at least I tried. We have withered pasts But our...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    Yesterday, the belt-loops looked beautiful. They were round like eyes staring up at me with silent animosity, dragging me down hallways of other belts and how each has a metal pin to hold all the rest in place; completing the cycle of holding up pockets and tightening faces. The bar above my hanging...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    When I’m alone, the images I see are horrifying. Words are words; they can begin a description and end it without truly owning a thing; so horror does not truly grasp my sight of mind when I say it is horrifying, I mean it is of something I cannot fathom in words. You may imagine me imagining this...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    On Lannister’s 22nth birthday, things were dreamy. He was the champion writer of the Yanmire Magazine team at Woodsworth Academy for the Gifted, he was the man of any particular hour that night because that night was his; and whether Lannister Macalester admitted it or not, he was in love with tha...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am ineffable – cosmogyral applaud – sucked through time unto the backs of your eyelids Yet; life force is measured in heart beats – We are Iambic In nature swinging a pendulum of fingernails scraping the roof of my mouth without you destroying the iron palettes of friends...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Up from the abyss, a stark voice came, As I sat over the water with my feet in sway, I was strong in the race, a gifted reader, too, A listening boy among the deaf-tone few, But I couldn't hide my dismay anymore; Watching the battles progress in endless gore. I couldn't listen t...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I am going to kill Izzy MacPherson. You remember, right? How we, but mostly you, thought if there was anyone to be a monster; to be the hidden, grotesque violence; to be the misunderstood, it was me. To snap, if anything, all at once, it would be me to break before you— And I think I have b...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am sitting, staring out from beneath a hard glance calling over crowds of municipalities to govern the majority of my surface reflection. I am sitting, one chance on this raft made from my hard-wire bones through storms and three thoughts made from you, stopping seventeen years and a while ...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    He knew from the moment, a time neither here nor there, he fell in love with her absence, he was going to kill her by that way; of the many ways; by remembering her. August became the reason for numerous things in life. It rang thick of hot and endless nights on cheap store-bought wine and si...

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