The guts,
Slithered,
Roughly,
Along the wall,
Down the hall,
And into the mouth. Continue reading
Category Archives: Writing
Flash Fiction: When Art Has More Power
The two sat in fluffy chairs on live television.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I was nauseous? It was such a surprise to me. I thought I was getting food poisoning.”
The interviewer smiled at him, but she was nervous underneath the makeup. Her producer told her it would be a good idea to interview one of the Creators, but then they gave her a horror one. Continue reading
Poem: The Most Tired
On wings of downy feathers,
Of cotton balls in brains,
Of sluggish underthought,
And not a single refrain, Continue reading
Poem: Info
If you have a secret,
That you hold near,
And dear,
You would not like to know—
His name. Continue reading
Poem: Chaos
Flickering tree line,
Wind up-ticking the grass,
A dream that consists,
Of nothing but colors,
Smeared,
Bleeding,
Purple and gold and red. Continue reading
Poem: Sparking World
Pop and whir go the brain extenders,
The little pocket protecting minds,
Full of wire and flow,
Electricity, Continue reading
Flash Fiction: Schoolyard Combat
They were pyromancers. And skeletal warriors. And gods. And mud-covered barbarians wielding magical ice swords.
They were two children with sticks. Continue reading
Poem: Comfortable
Demystifying Creativity
Some may disagree with me doing this. Some may become alienated as my experiences do not match up to theirs close enough. And some might simply be mad at me for some other reasons that if I were to guess, I’d likely be wrong about it anyway.
I’m gonna demystify creativity. Continue reading
Poem: Red Blinking Light
Sit there,
In this red room,
By screen light,
Double strewn,
Blinking monitors,
And data sped outwards, Continue reading
Poem: New Year
Poem: Christmas Time Is Best Time
You’d think my favorite,
Would be the time of screams,
The time of skeletons,
And very bad dreams. Continue reading
Microfiction: Just Passing Through
He had his hand against his cheek, and his eyes looked tired—even with the candlelight in them.
“So,” she began, and he held up his hand.
He had this odd, multi-band ring.
“No, none of that. Be more open, would you?” Continue reading
Poem: And Now It’s Time To Panic
Flash Fiction: Information
He sat, dead-eyed, with his hand on his chin. “I know.”
And, with those two words, she sputtered. “How…?”
He smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. She could not say for sure, but something seemed to move behind him—something huge.
“I know things, not to worry,” he replied.
“I’m worried,” she said. “This is a secret. I can’t have it getting out.” Continue reading
Coolerbs Writes 