“The Obsession” (Chapter Two via Kindle Vella).

“Mischa, have I done something to upset you?”

Oktavia’s terrifying presence made her flit for the knife, before dropping it back down on the cutting board. “What?”

“There is some… type of vomit on the vegetable cutting board.”

“What are you—No, no, I just chopped up the carrots—over and over again.”

Heroes and Villains.

Lauren let out a grunt into the dark cave, legs locking onto Artemis’s; her strength collapsed into the mutant who inhabited her space closely, soon fallen to the death of tenebrous nightfall.

song and dance.

death by all the flowers
into my hands; moon-struck
in the deconstruction of the womb
in night of envying
cults of orgasm

Heroes and Villains.

Lauren could no longer hesitate with her emotions. She had been frozen into the distinction of time and above all, tragedies—first with losing her parents, protecting her brother, Tom, as they were forced into memory loops and injections, then looking out for themselves on the island. She had to put other people out there to die, to disfigure themselves at the mercy of ash and topaz river-beds but she would do it again for him.

Artemis, however, made this thinking process very difficult.

take my hands?

a garden of have died

and have not; shan’t you

take my hands?

my skin, a linen

from the sun weeds, we share

parentheses as eyelids kiss

the poet

Originally posted on George Ellington:
The words, the power, the very syntaxof your verse delights me,says the linguist in me. The imagery flows like molten cloudsover my aging soul,cries the artist in me. Your rhythm reaches into my heartand entices…

dance (with me).

the immobile, the henna; and archaic sands
in blue fibers of fields,
as the moon-eyed dreamers,
you and I—we’re in anamnesis of the womb,
our cerise

Guitar Instrumental.

It is currently untitled, but its genre delves into, I suppose, flamenco and a bit of folk country. I recorded each section and layered it together through Soundtrap. The guitar model I use is an acoustic-electric Fender CD-60SCE, the strings I use are steel D’addario, 12-gauge.

do not.

do not turn from me,
twitching your oceanid weeds,
in symmetry twisting
shyness in ice, eyes like elk

she loves you.

in sanguinolent dances we trade
our flowers for knots of the moon,
cracking until the leftover asylum of poetry
turns and explodes in our veins