J

Joined November 2022

49 stories

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I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil

Achievements (2)

Stories (49)

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By J2 years ago in Writers
Monsters Made Of Sand
In this bed that I have made I turn, as in a grave Reaching branches outward Craving air but not so brave As to risk the dangers of the
By J2 years ago in Poets
Remain
Bitter melon seeds Water the ground like bullets Planted, as children
By J2 years ago in Poets
Co/veil/ent
There is a woman who comes to my window, once a day, every day, like clockwork. She stands and she stares, pointing fingers at my family and the misappropriation in the placement of our things.
By J2 years ago in Fiction
In Endless Night
⇟From whom Are we asking too much The question begs another: Is it any wonder? After all we've seen In the depths of deepest stills
By J2 years ago in Poets
The Trouble With Princes
The man I love is far from perfect. Perfect, it should be noted, is a rather dangerous word. Perfectionism often keeps us from completing that which we have set out to accomplish, for the fear that it will not be taken as we'd like it to. Some would argue that this notion tarnishes the very definition of perfection, in the same sense that attempting to control beauty inherently will end up corrupting it in its essence. Perfection is a luxury afforded to those who have the privilege of choosing their truths; confectionization of the unsavory:
By J2 years ago in Humans
Emergence
Many years, I've wintered here: This watery grave, turned stone cold in endless snow. The walls this well erects around itself have held no meaning, save the one that I have given them in solemn grief.
By J2 years ago in Poets
inter-rational
↓ Today, I tell my partner that he scares me Not because of anything he did Because of all the men who came before him
By J2 years ago in Poets
Reunion
Dear Auntie, Last night you came home for the first time in forever. Maybe ever. The house felt empty with you in it. I'm sorry for the cracks in the floor, and the sharp objects embedded in them. No, they are not baby-shoe safe. Yes, the kids can have my room. I'm sorry, too, that there is a sink there instead of a bed, that the staircase in the middle leads to nowhere; and the windows let in no light, only fog. Have you seen my mother?
By J2 years ago in Poets
(s)well
Still I was so Unready, then When the sky went dark I had looked away, at first Labelled it a trick of the light White flags, stained red by trauma
By J2 years ago in Poets
Affamilia
↓ I don't know you Well enough It may be All we've been through In spite of Who we've become As each other
By J2 years ago in Poets
Terra Firma. Top Story - February 2024.
After the rain, they came before the fold: chariot-drawn stags diving deep beneath her elden rings, forged in flames greater than gilded gods, and
By J2 years ago in Poets