These hands write and write Wandering into the crevices between my floor boards I thought I heard a bed bug It’s causing this insane itch There’s a connection, I know it Maybe it was that night with the Russian The silly thing must want me to teach it English. Or it’s sent from a loverContinue reading “Connections”
Tag Archives: creative writing
Give Me A Name
The poetry of Adam sucked into the cosmos imagined before it had a name These white eyes laced with fear guide her into the flame of God Her bloom leaves behind a rosie smear Yesterday a whore today a consecrated marriage never touched An unholy relic She’s my bride We venture into the unknown entwined -Saschia Johnson
Wet books
Wet Books That smell of wet books and Chanel no 5 is no invitation There are no arms open stiff I freeze Under my soles is the threshold A cold door knob damp in my palm Dead echoes haunt from behind “Vanity!” they scream A million hands reaching to save me from their sins fingersContinue reading “Wet books”
Pushing
Some days I’m just pushing through one more day. Just adding one more piece to the pile of experience. Every piece counts. Keep compiling. Yet, I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt from my minimal effort. -Saschia Johnson
Book Sniffer
Today I bought used books and sniffed each one before purchase. It’s silly I know but if they are moldy its makes my nose itch. And then I won’t read them. I’d rather pass up a moldy book than have a book that’s never read. -Saschia Johnson
Skin Show
I. I see the crevices where my mind has changed route Where the blood has stopped flowing and changed direction To kill off the illusion of rage and hypocrisy There’s a skin shed in the corner of the room no one speaks of it but me Who’s skin is that? Who was left so empty?Continue reading “Skin Show”
CampWrimo
I have decided to try out CampNanoWrimo. I lowered my word count to 10,000 words and I’m thinking that was a fabulous idea since I’m kinda lost where I am with editing my poems, screenplay, and whatever else I finally finished over the last year. Editing is no joke. I see now why they callContinue reading “CampWrimo”
Pick me
Run away with me on second thought, leave No, wait stay Send me to your favorite places Around and about in search of you Must I sit here so solitary under the great blue moon left to think myself inside out
Forest Baby
Branches slap her skin She runs through the place Like it’s her own She’s lost but she just keeps going Webs tickle her nose And a thousand baby spiders crawl under her clothes She’s a forest baby This is her home -Saschia Johnson Been working on editing my collection of poetry and figuring outContinue reading “Forest Baby”
Deep Dive
The waves foam and fizzle Gulping seagulls Gulping Mortals Flying seagulls Drowning mortals To the Sea bottom they go Sea sponges and treasures Hidden by overgrown seaweed What is this place where I crackle and my skin bubbles -Saschia Johnson
Jayne.press 