Introspection (Page 11)

A damaged and rusty yellow and red road sign with a black illustration of a man digging with a shovel sits beside a road, alerting drivers to road work ahead. Beyond the sign, evidence of road work is seen: overturned dirt, a roadside orange caution cone with a wide white horizontal-stripe, and a crumpled section of orange and white caution tape.

A Work in Progress (a poem)

I am a work in progress,
unfinished, incomplete.
Each day I grow in knowledge,
most learned here on the street.

[continue]. . .

Paper cut-outs of people's arms and the Earth. Each of the pieces is wrinkled, and the arms overlap each other. The arms are cut from many different colors of paper, which is reflective of the diversity of the human race. The Earth is cut from blue and green papers. All of the hands are pointed inward, toward the Earth.

Differences (thoughts)

Life is serenely complicated.
Some people try to stand out,
and by doing so hope to fit in
with others who do the same.
Me, I never wanted to stand out,
to be different, but I am.
I guess we all are, in our own way,
different that is.

[continue]. . .

A young woman lies inside a large book, using a branch to prop it open, and reads by flashlight under a night sky.

Did I just have an epiphany? I think I did. (article)

I woke up around three o’clock in the morning, again.
This time it was with the realization that I,
or at least the characters in my stories,
live in the past.

(393 words)

[continue]. . .

A transgender person, experiencing gender dysphoria, looks into a tall, wood-framed mirror.

Fit (a poem)

I don’t fit this skin.
I don’t fit this world

[continue]. . .

An ancient warrior woman, wearing a copper and green helmet, holds a human skull in her hand and looks into its eyes.

The End

A short story about pride.

(674 words)

An old tin watering can sits in a garden, overgrown with weeds.

Planting a seed (thoughts)

If someone plants an idea in your head,
that doesn’t mean you have to water it.

[continue]. . .

Black and white hand-drawn and inked artwork on fluorescent-green paper. A drawing of a young man (Cromwell Green) with his hands together in front of his face sits in front of a large moon. His forehead rests against his fists. Cromwell is dressed in black with three spiked wristbands on each wrist. His long, spiked hair hangs over his hands. His white eyes are devoid of pupils and irises.

inside (lyrics)

Cowering in fear
a life without meaning
my purpose in vain
exist without feeling

I turn up the music
to the threshold of pain
drown out the voices
all shackled in chains

Don’t know where to go
there’s nowhere to hide
’cause you can’t run
from the monster inside

[continue]. . .

A 3D rendering of a darkened child's room at night. A red alarm clock sits atop a book beside a lamp on the nightstand, illuminating part of the room. The blanket and sheet are pulled down, and the bed lies empty save for two pillows and a teddy bear. From beneath the bed, two tentacles reach out.

Three A.M. (a poem)

Awakened again,
unable to sleep,
for the stirrings below
of leviathans deep.

[continue]. . .

A little kid, carrying a vintage suitcase and teddy bear starts to cross the street on a bright sunny Summer morning.

Running Away (a poem)

I’m sick of my life owning me,
the things that I have done.
It seems I want to run away,
from the person I’ve become.

[continue]. . .

A determined little blonde-haired boy is trying to lift a barbell with large green weights.

Strength (thoughts)

The one who thinks themself strong,
is the weakest of all.

[continue]. . .