Lyrical Poem S:1 P: 2

Lyrical Poem S:1 P: 2 - "Alice"

I don't know what's going on,
I must have gotten' some bad shit, Alice is often a wrong hit.
All I see is breaking down.
No queen for me, let her be, I'll take your frown without the crown.
No crows, no feet, no rabbit's teeth,
A bottle of hearts, a mushroom tart,
Just a jar, and a game of cards.
The walrus, the cat, a courtroom packed.
The Hatter promised, I'm being honest.
I didn't know, I wasn't alone.
He said it was tea, just for me,
But obviously it wasn't, it's very unpleasant.
I don't know what's going on,
I must have gotten' some bad shit, Alice is often a wrong hit.

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A Snippet: Golden Children of the Night

Since so many people have been following my twitter posts of me writing , here is a snippet unedited of what I've done so far. Enjoy! ...They watched as another bolt of lightening struck the ground, forcing them to bend into their stances to resist falling to their knees, and formed into a tall gleaming female figure. The armored woman’s eyes flickered with golden irises as she took each of them in before addressing them. “You speak as if you have earned a place upon Olympia, Dead King,” she said, her lyrical voice commanding between them as her eyes bore into Belloros. “You are old, Athena, and the Romans will see to it that nothing of Ancient Greece shall remain standing,” he replied defiantly, “including you.” Those wise eyes turning her way, she met them unflinching but not without respect. She felt measured, as she had the last time she stood before the Gods of Olympus, and like before she kept her words to herself. “And you seek to bet...

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Short Story S: 5 P 2 - "The Whistler"

It's trailing after me. Wherever it's coming from. That stupid eerie whistling noise. It's kind of like an old song...but not? Stupid old miner's house. Stupid ghost stories. Stupid cute boys... I should have known better than to take on the dare just to impress Josh. No matter how handsome the basketball player is, he isn't worth dying in a goddamn haunted shit hole for. I should have shrugged them off at the beach party. Should have watched how much I was drinking. Shouldn't have kissed those stupid soft lips. Sigh. Too late now. "Where is that coming from?!" I can't make out shit beyond shapes in this fucking place, and it's almost like someone is literally right behind me whistling that tune in some bad horror movie trope. Up the creaking steps. Down the worn dusty hallway. Past the numerous open ...

A Mind in Motion

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