This coming year, I need a lot of bravery. I have spotted demons, and put them on my hit-list. There are a lot of them. Each day, I add some to my to-do list, and off we go. Many days I’m paralyzed in fear. I keep falling into the same traps, and…

I am castaway, on a driftboat, On the ocean of collective consciousness. There are no perfect mirrors, that show my own reflection. Do I really exist? A part of me knows that what my senses perceive is an excitation on a wave; a particle. A vibrant illusion. …

There are ideas in my head that I want to get out. They appear and disappear like flashes of light. I think, “fuck, there’s that familiar flash again, I should really convert that entity into physical form and do that thing they call ‘be creative.’” That is why I am…

She spoke to me Like a demon in the sand A demon I had buried And stood on For years She was dense like coal Packed under the pressure Of fear and anger and hate and neglect. I heard her voice from two feet deep, And she cried And asked for forgiveness I told her, I’m sorry I have forgotten…

She calls herself a thorn. She pierces those who try to get close. She is riddled with fractures and scars and bullet wounds and bruises from all those thunderstorms and snowstorms and rainstorms and the storms of life. But she isn’t. She isn’t a thorn. She is a wildflower. A…

Today I took a walk in the park and saw the flowers about to bloom. Spring is the time of seeding. The time when freshness is being created from what returned to the earth. It is a time of severe digestion. A time of reflection. It is when we see…

Long ago, when the air was young and sweet and seemed just within reach, there was a young boy, untouched by the taint of the world. Sticks became swords in his hands. A friend, his foe in battle. …

Are you afraid? You should be. There is something intensely vulnerable about exposing your soul to me. Something terrifying about spilling the contents of your conscious experience onto this sharp, white, almost judgmental plane. Especially due to the fact that (as you know), once you etch your demons onto me…

The clock’s hand gestured towards three, making me increasingly nervous. Time seemed to stretch out like thick honey, viscous and seemingly immoving, and the balmy heat didn’t help conceal the tickling beads of sweat forming on my skin. This was my predicament every Saturday afternoon in the summer of my…