“At the moment of conception, the story exists as a superposition of possibility, idly waiting for someone to crack it. Waiting for someone to skip to the last page.”
—
Write like a Child
And she said she felt like a child
when she wrote
and i said
goodtry and write like a child
try and write
with freedom and lack
of artifice
try and write without
the filters of adult experience
try and write
about the things that matter
however childish
they may seemdid we write
or think
about what might
when we were children
or are we only scared
now we are agedis experience better
than innocence
and why does it seem
one only comes
at the expense
of the other
The Good Girl
He, he tasted of metal, rusted and corroding like an acid in my mouth. Me? I tasted like cotton candy, warm maple syrup and a hint of buttered rum. I knew it then, in that moment…We were destined to destroy each other…I could hardly wait.
-bunniblue
Black Ink
A beating heart
filled with black ink
enough to pen
ten thousand truths
trickling out from wounds
bleeding onto the pages
from one cut flows
ten thousand poems.