Category: writing



a feeling of triumph rested

upon my shoulders

as I handed in the final


the coup de grâce,

ending an old war that echoed

through my bones

for centuries

I wanted nothing more than

respite to heal

from these rosy tattoos around

my arms and head.


three lines

I got

56 people

in my fucking lane.

she II

the smell of autumn lingered

on her fingertips

as she wandered around the

maples that welcomed her like

a queen

the feeling of home sat on her lips

like cookie crumbs

it was a return to serenity,

her solace

beneath the starry night.


I something forget

about the war that is beyond

our reach

it feels like a dream

wrapped around a nightmare

this war against the


the pale avarice living 

among us.


three lines

Is it due today?




that’s not logical

well excuse you Spock.


for someone with hardly

a voice,

she spoke loudly against the powerful

who told her to keep quiet

about a heinous


that lurked beneath the membrane

of this golden society,

a defiance born from love,

blossoming as others shared their




you always told me how I was

destined to be king

but I saw something else beneath

the gilded crown,

a warm, but distant soul

who hungered for even more

despite the circle that rested above

I found myself stained with the guilt of

betraying my family

and it never left my mind like the words

of my friend who loved me

and my flaws.


he had this thespian quality,

a charming one

for someone who ran a plant store

he always told me about a

world beyond his own,

an untold story of magic and fiendish souls

and half the time I never knew 

how to respond

because my imagination would

run wild like a wolf in an

open, summer field.

loosely inspired by @kihaku-gato



her hands grew numb

even as she stood by the roaring flames.

every nerve in her body wanted to return home,

but she dreaded the very thought of those

who were waiting for her back in the comfort

of that quiet little house,

the tireless hunters who hungered for her

like wolves in the winter.

she bit her lip and looked around at the spruces before she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

it was her dear friend who was concerned about the whole ordeal as much as her,

although her companion hardly spoke of it,

keeping a restful composure

as the cold persisted.