Never have I ever wanted to fit into normalcy Every time I thought of it I knew that it just wasn’t me Don’t get me wrong, I know that it’s society There’s nothing bad of being glad and fitting in the mold, you see And if I’m being candid it’s a life I’ve started to … More Between the Lines
Ripples, I see down below The waves are moving, soft and slow Like zephyrs, gently drifting through The water’s stillness calms and soothes I cast a rock into its deeps Watch it sink as this willow weeps I see the first bright evening star Across the lake, the trees afar The coast adorns a bright … More Ripples
The sand, the dirt, the grass, the trees The sticks, the stones, the light, the breeze The things this world has made for me Have warmed my heart and set me free I look at the stars as I rest on my knee They twinkle and spark, this light that I see I gaze at … More My Life
They’re carried each and every day, they never ever go away. I cannot seem to find a place where minds are clear and thoughts erased. They stay with me, they’re always there, it seems a saddened love affair. My heart is blackened when the air begins to flow with fervent prayer. The things I’ve done, … More Scars
91 At 91, Gladys sips bourbon from her grandmother’s floral teacup. It’s eleven in the morning. The teacup shakes slightly in her veined, big-knuckled hand. The saucer clinks several times as she sets it down. She’s given up reading the newspaper because her eyes are shot and she feels reading glasses are gauche. Instead of … More 91 (A Short Story by Josh Jones)
Thought. It is such a curious concept. It exists behind everything. Every single action, every single behavior, every single thing we do is motivated by thought, whether conscious or not. Breathing, for example. Do you think every time you take a breath? I think not. And yet you do it. I am having difficulty compartmentalizing … More The Answer: 2
I fear I’ll never know why they did the things that they did. Yet, counter-intuitively, this is the very question that lies at the bottom of every single shred of truth I find in my quest to understand these things called humans. Why? Why did they do what they did? This rudimentary, fundamental question has … More The Answer: 1
The world is torn, its seams are frayed They say they’ve wished them well and prayed So many hold opinions, strong But words are where they stop, its wrong For if the ones who claim to care Are genuine, then where’s their fare? What costs have they all taken on? Outside of tweets, or … More Torn
My dearest Lilliana, Not a day goes by without my thoughts eventually falling upon you. Those carefree, restless nights spent together I always think of as I sit here in the trenches, covered in the grit and dirt that this advance has cast over me. Every day we are inching forward, further and further as … More Letter to My Lost: 2
My love. My all. Such memories do we share. Memories such as the times we’d awaken to the sun’s shimmering rays darting through the window, on those soft linen sheets as you’d rollover, greeting me with the morning’s first kiss. Memories of your fingers gently gliding, cusping the back of my neck, holding me as … More Letter to My Lost: 1
How the World Should Work 