In battle, small platoons take hold positions. Their leaders converse and strategize. It is neither a battle they plan to fight nor a war they wish to start. It will be a complete conquering, and this must be a smooth sweep. Such things are not decided upon quickly. Every angle is inspected thoroughly and repeatedly. … Continue reading The Birth of Death
At 1379 Milepost, Delta Junction, Alaska, is a religious commune with a history of horror.
Abstract writing is a style allowing the reader to interpret for themselves.
There's a faded line Between reality and time I Catch myself remembering rejection Straddling a log fence watching Them play and laugh and shout Odd girl out Too loud I used to be an expert at stilts Stride the mud like a queen I could do anything If I just believed but I never prayed hard enough to Make God real and It would be a version of Drop Dead Fred who Emerged the memories in my head Read more...
"Told in a restrained but highly effective style, reminiscent of Kazuo Ishiguro’s brilliantly understated bestseller "Never Let Me Go", "Cult Child" provides frightening insights into the methods and after-effects of religious coercion. Her fortress is no bigger than the space between her ears; but through quiet internal resistance, Sila halts her opponents and outlasts their … Continue reading “Victim Speaks Out, While Cult Leader Awaits Trial”
Shattered intoA host of ghostsI never saw a demonSave in the memoriesOf my screaming And days aren'tAll fucking prettyJust because I'm notLamenting the acheThat sometimesSettlesIn my core There's so muchLeft to tellAnd I'm in fractalsSorting out facesIn the spacesGone black The cavesWith a hundred eyesLooking backWaiting toFeed the fearMock the tearsThen disappear ShatteredScatteredDark matter That's … Continue reading Shattered
I know there's times when i feel afraid and nothin' you say can make the fear go away I'm just a girl who tries to live this life the best way I know how but you don't understand the times I feel so alone I could I could I could I could die. I kept … Continue reading Disregard
There's been a hell put on me, and it isn't written on frail paper, in black ink by pink skinned kings.
I crash like waves standing here silent on the edge of a sea of soulless eyes. I dive down into the depths of their truth, the lies their lives so adamantly display, as if adoration brings validation, as if admiration is acceptance. I dangle my legs on cliffs drifting into the apathy running rampant a … Continue reading At Home
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