Poetry, Short Stories
The Blue Brick Wall
The Blue Brick Wall

The Blue Brick Wall

There is a brick wall. It is the only thing I can see in any direction I turn. The bricks look sturdy; electric blue jay stones with neat lines separating to conjoin them all together. The grout glows. Each separation made clear and distinct with light. Sometimes the...

Liberation, Poetry
Listen

Listen

Listen, Can you not hear the past echoes coming from our throats? We are choked and we are suffocating Still advocating for ancient blasphemies and trafficking a tragedy of souls by the soulless; made homeless then controlled us left alone in a sea of apathy. They...