Speculative Poetry
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My life is a story, So hold on for all what’s left of me— For I write and illustrate, Still it collects dust as we speak. God doesn't favor me, It's the mind that bleeds— …
To Live Is To Learn
To live is to learn For not living can only mean downturn To live is to explore and discover For not unlearning the wrongs is a possible recover To live is to be a kaleidosc…
A nightwatcher of three names
How can I tell water from its sticky cousin? The red leak from my palms and the answer is still evading me. I watch the water sway in a dance with the wind. I no longer kno…
What am I really
What am I really? Am I the protagonist of my story, or the supporting lead? Am I just a fragment of the society or the society her self? Am I the truth or the lie? Am I …
The Circuit and the Sea
The great blue mainframe powers up at dawn, booting through the mist of a salt-heavy sky, where the horizon acts as the ultimate firewall between the known shore and the deep u…