Posts Tagged: Writers
Tiny letter
I haven’t written anything in over a year. I haven’t written anything that I wanted to write in over two years. The reason for that is college. I decided to get a degree in creative writing (it would be my
Tiny letter
I haven’t written anything in over a year. I haven’t written anything that I wanted to write in over two years. The reason for that is college. I decided to get a degree in creative writing (it would be my
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
Whom do I have to call my own?
Bukowski had his hookers Fitzgerald had Zelda And Zelda had Fitzgerald Poe had his Annabel Lee Picasso had Fernande While Hemingway was with his Paris wife Foer and Krauss had each other And the other Dante had Lizzie Siddal But
Whom do I have to call my own?
Bukowski had his hookers Fitzgerald had Zelda And Zelda had Fitzgerald Poe had his Annabel Lee Picasso had Fernande While Hemingway was with his Paris wife Foer and Krauss had each other And the other Dante had Lizzie Siddal But
Lost in the echo
All I ever wanted was someone to write for Someone to write about Someone who appreciates what I do Someone who cherishes it Someone who has proof of my love for them in the pages that they hold in their
Lost in the echo
All I ever wanted was someone to write for Someone to write about Someone who appreciates what I do Someone who cherishes it Someone who has proof of my love for them in the pages that they hold in their
If you cannot be a poet, then be a poem
Her fingers melt between mine She turns my hands over Reading my palms, she writes my future She says that I could write amazing things I close my eyes Her fingers trace the burns on my arms As the burn
If you cannot be a poet, then be a poem
Her fingers melt between mine She turns my hands over Reading my palms, she writes my future She says that I could write amazing things I close my eyes Her fingers trace the burns on my arms As the burn
Nero’s muse
* DISCLAIMER: This was written by Nadia, the muse of my previous post “Nero” – https://incaseoflosspleasereturnto.wordpress.com/2012/07/17/nero/ I’d like to share something with you about her – She likes simplicity. That big wooden table would definitely have drawn her into the
Nero’s muse
* DISCLAIMER: This was written by Nadia, the muse of my previous post “Nero” – https://incaseoflosspleasereturnto.wordpress.com/2012/07/17/nero/ I’d like to share something with you about her – She likes simplicity. That big wooden table would definitely have drawn her into the
Nero
It’s your favorite cafe. Chairs, couches, and tables are set around one big room. A high ceiling is surrounded by windows on two sides, and by concrete on the other two sides. It’s rectangular, which gives an illusion that the
Nero
It’s your favorite cafe. Chairs, couches, and tables are set around one big room. A high ceiling is surrounded by windows on two sides, and by concrete on the other two sides. It’s rectangular, which gives an illusion that the
LITTLE TALKS 