Books
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“Has not the average person been aware of their steps, ahead? Is it a commitment to fear, to stay where one is? The future always looks the bleakest to those who cannot face it. They would rather see the light of the moment, as it grows larger with each waiting hour that passes.” – Modern
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A memory. A moment. Like one cruel awakening with Alzheimer’s Disease. Something gone from the mind, then the heart, then the soul. I blow my wind against the interior of this window. As I do it, I recall the definition to sameness. I recall what is left of it, as the words within a book.
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She holds a smile in her hands, while filming the ocean’s sounds with her heart. Sounds that return to her, upon when the waters lick the shoreline. Sounds that matter only to a world that never responded quick enough, upon when sickness took her beloved. A world that only gave a whisper from a dying
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How is pain felt? Is it not like the storm gathered in its heaviest gray? Would the gray remain for long, before letting loose what it has carried, being of its rain? Are we not the same in what we dispassionately yearn to be rid of? It is that brief moment of logic where we
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“I cannot help but to love what I have found. A heart. Hers. It would remain isolated, without a branded kiss. I leech my own, through the vessels that remain upon my discovery. I am the sailor who throws himself overboard. I cannot love myself, not for a moment. I sacrifice myself, to see her
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This tale depicts a mentally ill convict, who represents the anti-hero, who cannot help but to feel immediate regret for the disgrace he has placed upon his wife and daughter. For the certain mistake and crime he made, he has been placed in prison for 10 years. At the beginning of “No Love Barred”, the
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“There are many who utter the line, ‘This receives too much hate’, when the sentence should read as, ‘This receives too much criticism’. For true hatred cannot be ‘too much’, as it just is, by itself, a destroyer. Hatred is a purpose in one’s life. Hatred is never ‘too much’, anymore than love is too
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“The ignorance of a human, in contrast to knowledge, resonates in the fear in distance between people. To what one knows of another, makes knowledge. To what one does not know of another, makes ignorance. This much, is obvious. However, to be fearful, would also mean to be ignorant. It is the case of any
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Lisa had walked. Now, she lays. Upon a back with her eyes to the sunlight. It is her ceiling. Such a golden wash of hues extends to her resplendent, ivory face. What woman, any like her, can be she who eclipses all the stars to make the pitch darkness? Then, to create a new sort
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She entertains to the sight of this mirror, leaning against this room’s furthest corner. Upon her blankets to a twin bed, ruffled as they are to the outcome of a night’s soaring passion, she swims through the waves of them to partake for a closer look. She is adorable to her nature, agleam to her
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“My mind is not the greatest place to be. But, if you read one of my books, that’s exactly where you’re going.” – Sam Krieg (The Secret World)
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“Her beauty is the leaves during Autumn, meant to fall, and be swept upon the road like tears across cheeks. ‘Why lie to yourself?’ might say any sensible person, to this disdainful soul. She counts Heaven for its stars, though never for its sole kingdom. A mansion has a place for her, though the beds
Modern Romanticism 