Lying dormant for years, my fountain pen has lost its ability to inspire me to transcend all the rubicons of corporeality. I used to believe that, once baptised continue reading
i must be alive, since i am writing this stanza after i walked you home and said goodnight, even though it was morning. i must be alive. ... continue reading
is stagnant water bound to rot?
fun and games, writing, is it not? sometimes we hit, miss more often, and usually somewhere in between. ... continue reading