In which our heroine finds herself clutched in the monster’s filthy, razor sharp claws, afraid for her life. Introduction: The scripting process begins and ends This narrative slowly opens and possibly took several years for the writer to realize the finished script. Editing the story of a life continues beyond publication, past the timeline of […]Read more
Unlatch me, catch and return me scales, underbitten and in the flesh A real guest of honor. Crumpled shirts creased, A Western hanging for Black hats. Barn door closets Open and craving smart suits. Drawers devoid of life, Almost empty except Gideon’s guide book — The Special Edition With tourist maps all Pointing north at […]Read more
Yearning for my partner’s support and the kind of tender and caring love many of which many metastatic sisters write and blog about, I now look over at him, home in bed, and find one whose dark, inky emotions remain locked away inside his heart, like the stars behind clouds in a dark night sky. He lays there disengaged, thinking to himself about things that cause long bouts of sighing, and the simmering anger of so many men who find themselves bitten by such disorders.Read more
How does one learn to reason with depression? I’d like to share with you a story about a confused partner who after the passing of her arbitrary three-year deadline falls into s state of incredible aftermath. She unreasonably and unfortunately becomes inconsolable with wave after wave of ugly accusations hurled from across a house she lives in with this depressed man who she no longer knows, or even knows what she feels for him anymore.Read more
Slowly dripping outside busy windows
Only two minutes, like eggs timed, yet
She’s done cooking. With eyelashes, false
Newly bred widows sit with spidery eyes,
Single fingers silently making reservations for twos.
They reapply the glue, so unkind, that humidity.