You weep for stars

yet dare not draw the blinds.

You bleed for distant wars

but never cross the line.

What is this—

all this bright,

unanswered light?

I see the past

hungering in your eyes;

you glimpse the future

flickering in mine.

I released Forever,

let it drift from my hands,

and chose instead to hold

whatever speaks,

however faint,

of a sign—

That death is not the end,

and He is always al...

Death is the same

color as frost.

It comes when you’re

broken, lonely, or lost,

blooming on your fractured

ribs like fire

or moss.

Even when you whisper

in the hollow of night,

or cry, mumbling, in the blur

of the light: _someone’s gonna_

_save me._

But your will slips past

your destiny.

And what you’ve searched for

endlessly

arrives—quiet

and free.

No fight, no falling,

just breathe.

The da...

I was just 16 when I saw blood for the first time. Real blood—dripping from the veins, crying out for God. My dad yelled at me to get napkins and another can of beer. He tugged at the wound as if he were pulling on the reins of a horse and passed out sometime around 3 AM.

The house glowed with white light. I remember staring at his poorly wrapped finger and feeling so angry. When blood leaves you...

A boy I used to know

once told me that to believe in God,

you have to believe in light,

and to believe in light,

you must have first known darkness.

I think what he meant was:

the princess in her tower

has no sense of the scorched village below.

Even when she closes her eyes,

her “darkness” glows gold,

the gleam of inherited greed.

There is no such thing as _absence_.

No such thing as _without...

Watered-down coffee is

surprisingly tolerable.

50% coffee. 20% water.

30% fear.

Men with rifles

are everywhere I look.

Murder steps

outside my door.

The knob’s been touched

by too many hands.

In and out.

In and out.

The lock means nothing.

Watered-down coffee is

surprisingly tolerable.

10% coffee. 30% water. 60% fear.

I’ve written ninety-nine letters.

The hundredth

will be my last.

I know I’m...

Growing up, Sora saw Ronin as more of a presence than a father. Ronin fed him, changed his diapers, bathed him, and kept him alive—but all of these actions were devoid of love. To Ronin, Sora was less a son and more a living testament to his own legacy. He was a narcissist, yet Sora knew no other reality.

Their interactions were never true exchanges; they were monologues spun by Ronin, who filled...

God, forbid I fly?

Into the pale, blood-shed night—

The moon, a hand of my dead soul!

God, give me wings;

Is my life not already a hefty toll?

God forbid, I fly.

I find space and create

New time. My father,

Killed for new eyes,

Unseeing of war and hardened

Hearts.

Oh, may God forbid I fly!

I’ll grow, as I promised my

Death-ridden mother—wings

Like skies and cries of

Killing brothers.

Should God...

The day after

The painting is done.

The red, the blue, the loss,

The fun.

The muse asks the artist

For a little more—

A little more life,

A little more sure.

The day after

The painting is done.

The orange, the pink, the loss,

The hidden sun.

The artist looks back

To the seconds before

They had finished something

So beautiful—

Making something no more.

The day after

The painting is done.

All the ...

The day someone knocked on the door of the dying cabin, lost deep in the woods of Wyrrah Vale, was the day the earth began to stir--just slightly, just enough to finally notice the boy with hunger for teeth. Sora was still young, but he had long crossed the threshold of saving.

However, when the Jehovah's Witness knelt in the unforgiving snow and begged him to pray, Sora thought--just for a mome...

We all look the same in the dark.

Your tears, your blood — they mean

nothing.

The dog that bites is

no more alive than the dog that

barks.

There’s no prayer for those

born unbelonged;

only the hope of heaven

and disastrous song,

with hand-holding,

grief, and fear,

and great justice,

and voices whispering in

their ears.

Our grass is red, and blue,

and white.

Not even the dark can hide

what you’re s...