All Houses Are Haunted. Everywhere I’ve Ever Lived Has Been Haunted

The children yearn for the archives

You hurt me with your fragile words;

lonely is the new day's speech

and the quiet beholds a solemn time

filled with empty promises, I hear you speak

of nothing more than darkness folding

consuming all to sit and see

a new day filled with quietly spoken

words now absent

of your cruel mind and damning speech

poetically aligned; beneath these opal sunken twilit skies.

Dark Shakespeare Sequels

Thirteenth Night: Malvolio’s Revenge

Much Ado 2: Kill Claudio

The Merchant of Menace

As You Don’t Like It 

The Scary Wives of Windsor: The Fall of Falstaff

The Tempest 2: Hurricane Miranda 

Richard III 2: Back from Bosworth (feat. zombie Richard)

A Midsummer Nightmare: Attack on Titania  

A lady in the sky, she follows

dawn’s peaceful light

in wait of tomorrow's guilt,

burning beneath a mountain of clouds

each one darker than the last,

and yet she shines

brighter than any sun in any sky,

she wanders near those setting scales

backed by lions in a crow like roar

waiting to feed the passing day

a lady in the sky, she waits

when I say “everyone’s on their own timeline”, I mean it.

there’s no right age to learn something by. there’s no right age to be settled down, to move out of home, or to start your own family. there’s no right age to start working, if you work at all. there’s no right age to graduate.

life isn’t a series of boxes you need to tick. do things at your own pace. slow down if you need to. it’s okay.

Why do I keep myself hidden in layers of self-control

Afraid of the dark whilst summer lines my curtains

Choking back these haunting fears, and numb

Is the only feeling that's certain

What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet

In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...

I know I'm turning ugly

A turpentine tree trunk

Twisted as the shadows

Lengthen and silhouettes

Soften, someone show me

How to make anything but

A fist— I bruise, I burn, I

Hold on to everything

That wants to let me go

I am growing stunted with

The skillet slant of the sun

Playing hide-and-seek

I have lost or I am losing

And the ink in my veins

Falls in splotches insensible

In this eternal, internal rain

I have a mouth made for

Despair, I have learned to

Chew the air before my

Weary lungs can swallow