Bizarre

True Story

I don’t know why I did that…

I See Faces (Part 3): This Image Appeared In My Window and I Drew It

It’s called Pareidolia, but what…

The Strangest Day

A Prose Poem

I woke up, the morning was plastic
and the sun was made of candle light.
In a…

How Stardust Travels

A Poem

The stars are true, and crying
for our dying creations and
I cry for when our little…

Puracy Be So

Poetry

The impulse of the day 
hurts like karaoke 
downhill for intimacy 
because feeling the world
sounds…