Category: Prose

out of reach.

A wish, these solitudes in dark wept, midnight

exits in a dream, torturing you; emerges

in oceans, as if the face of the sea-light

is in a trance of wander, a dark mind urges

“Fear, Light, and Liberation” by PatBunny.

This is the power of self-esteem, which is stronger than the outside confidence you radiate. (Because confidence comes from other’s judgments about you, and self-esteem comes from your own judgement of yourself.) Your fear evolves around your own judgement of yourself, not others, as many mistakenly think.

Collaboration Poem Completed.

Upon the dark winged azure, the dream invites
Light freedom from long ago; the tumult births mankind, and through my lips,
I will have recognized the shadows beyond the world,
With eyes among the laurel leaves, I see tears upon the rowan fields

A dream suspended from sanctuary.

The partition of light slides upon the red, pale rocks shielded by the cluster of streams, a fossilized hue of the starlight in the refusal of blustering dreams.
A mere smudge of waterlogged forbidden Arcadia—tasseling a present vanishing in exile a solemn midsummer darkness prowling the streets in your memory.

Valhalla. (Prose)

It is in the beige evening by the willows and a café restaurant with the golden leaves and their shards on the grounds, covered in a cleansed rain. It is in the illumination of shatters that broke beyond the pale sky that not only writhes among itself, but will be only among a frail sight like memory, a seed into the dead fruit of tree.

In The Stars.

For the present, memory is rattled by the sorrel sobs that do not quell from my bleeding lips
And I, now enclosed, in the flowers and darkened furnaces that blemished on my pale skin,
I do not know, nor do I remember, but it is through the ashes in my weary palms,
On the ghoul traces of wind that says to me, ensconced,
“Slicked through the tears of the dark clouds with wraith-like fires upon a weak soul,
The wind shall hear no name…