I’d show up if you wrote more for me I’d lay it all out for you if you took five minutes out of your day to write me something pretty There is nothing else expected but your words flowing in their own natural beauty and your thoughts the root of it all. Sprinkle them withContinue reading “From: Your Muse”
Tag Archives: life
Doors 3/8/2018
Approval
Is this good Do you like it But do you really like it Idk how you could, it’s terrible -Saschia Johnson
Retractions
Here I sit with not one fake mother fucker in my face. I’ll humbly admit that there are some days I shift. I’ll suggest something I don’t agree with and when I become conscious of my falseness, I retract it as quickly as I can. It’s just much easier to be elsewhere in my mindContinue reading “Retractions”
Doors 3/2/2018
Artist Life
I need to know about the artist not the art. The art is great, but I prefer to learn the artist because for me that’s what makes the art. Please bare with me while I try and find a new book on the lives of artists and their art that I enjoy enough to writeContinue reading “Artist Life”
The Neighbors Cat
It’s a calico and stalks our yard with spiritual confidence Sometimes I lift the curtain to get a better view It freezes we eye each other And it’s quite entertaining Especially when I should be writing When it tires of our connection It disappears behind the bush that divides us. Tomorrow we may do the sameContinue reading “The Neighbors Cat”
Love notes
Love notes Encourage me To keep going Send more please.
Sleepy from nothing
Sleepy from nothing. Just sleepy. Maybe from thinking. Or maybe I ate the wrong thing but I’m too sleepy to care enough to figure it out. My brain is foggy and my eyelids are heavy. The future is weighing me down but the past doesn’t bite too bad anymore. I could have just adjusted toContinue reading “Sleepy from nothing”
between the carpet and the comforter
By: Michael Morlock curled up on the floor, surrounded by toys, crawling under your daughters blanket just to try and be close to the things you love the most, and it’s still only you, alone, smothering beneath the coloured comforter, neck at a harsh angle, face burning against the coarse carpet, willing and wishing forContinue reading “between the carpet and the comforter”
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