time ticks suck our joy
wringing hands dread tomorrow
how’s the weather there?
I like to share my art and writings, whether it's silly or serious. I'll also feature a comic I work on called Writing Whoas, which is about the joys and hardships of being a writer. Stick around to laugh or cry.
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More stories from Jemma Jae and writers in Poets and other communities.
Do not trust clocks ticking within the glass. Please binge-watch that show (or 12 other ones); croon for dazzling riches you’ll amass,
By Jemma Jae4 years ago in Poets
They urge me, “say it with more feeling!” As if it isn’t my very feelings that are the culprit for this stoic numbness As if it isn’t my very feelings that I’m drowning in
By Mikayla Rose3 days ago in Poets
light pierces the sky our fingertips trace its path every breath held
By Bride of Sound5 days ago in Poets
Across the street from my house, a man slept under a tree, his dog by his side. My first, naive thought: he must be traveling through. But he kept coming back, often sleeping there during the day. Then it hit me—that person might not have a home.
By Bride of Sound2 days ago in Humans
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Made me think, made me chuckle. Subscribed!