I killed him. I killed him but my anger remained. We were young when he defiled us. Leaving us to rot in the garden as fertilizer. The roses were far healthier that year.

My sisters had long since passed on, they ushered me to join them, even nudging me in their ghastly forms. But I remained. For my anger was far too great to withstand. It simmered in my soul like potent rot. I was plagued. Not ...

There was a relief in feeling the storm’s approach

Silence held its own sound,

The inevitable buzz of tension,

And the cruelty of its existence,

In silence there is decay,

In silence there is lack of being,

An arrow before the plunge,

A held breath before the lunge,

An unpredictability that cannot be anticipated,

There’s truth in a storm’s approach,

It won’t deny you the information of i...

Playing in the cemetery was always fun. Sometimes I don’t even need to dig for bones! But I’m always shoo’d away by mother. Other people stay away from her and I can’t understand why. I’m not particularly big, perhaps my breath stinks.

I’m not afraid of her though. I get the feeling she’s troubled by something and she has this peculiar scent, the kind I pick up in the cemetery. Her friends don’t...

I mourn what could have been,

For a moment, I thought I saw the world in your eyes,

Warm pools of dark chocolate tempting the walls around my chest,

Under the snow which graced my lashes,

I thought I saw what it meant to sink,

To rediscover the expanse of my own heart,

I discovered to yearn through touch,

A touch that considerate me in its highest regard,

I discovered to breathe through yo...

Forgive?

Forgiveness has abandoned me,

As my skin twists,

And my expression dulls,

Forgive?

You know not what lurks beneath,

The ugliness which festers in my gullet,

Anger,

Forgive?

Anger beckons me,

And I heed its call,

Tell me what you yearn, so I may snuff it out,

Forgive?

Tell me what you crave, so I may spoil its taste upon your tongue,

Tell me what you fear, so I may feast upon...

Who am I when no one’s watching?

Perhaps I’m the narrative of my mind,

Crafted by the viscous mold of trauma,

Or the wickedness of humanity,

Fleeting in its existence, a blight,

An all consuming disease,

I could be the wretchedness of desire,

A lust which permeates deep in my soul,

Must I always sabotage myself?

I am the pretender,

The damned,

The rotting flesh that nurtures soil,

The ...

“Ya know…”

“What is it this time?” Jake asks, smirking.

She smacks his shoulder, earning a laugh from him, “Let me finish you arse.”

“Hey don’t let me stop you,” he retorts.

“I was gonna say I’m fond of geese.”

“Those absolute satan spawn?”

Rolling her eyes, she can’t help snicker, “Oh stop it, they’re cute.”

“They’re absolute menaces,” He scoffs.

“You’re a menace.”

He looks back toward t...