Writer. Gothic Soul. Woodland Spirit.
I'm keeping off life's interstate, doing this my own way, ignoring the mileposts and the big goals I've been told I'm supposed to be working toward. Some days, I don't even know if I'm still going forward, slugging along on my own trail, shrugging it off if I fail, humming along at my own pace,... Continue Reading →
Wandering in the foothills, tripping on shyness like creeping vines, studying outdated, unspecific guides, searching for a sign, they look to the sky, awed by the glow of the colors that bleed with the morning light. A shared moment. This is the sign they need, no more waiting for the stars to align. And so,... Continue Reading →
After all her wrong turns and muffled and swallowed words, she found someone who bent around her curves and traced the way to the hidden place of contentment she thought she'd never deserve after all the bridges she'd burned, someone she wanted in her life, beside her at sunrise and low tide and all the... Continue Reading →
I'm tired of trying to make something crucial and beautiful, something cool enough to impress you, from my changeable, unstable thoughts. Like striking water from a rock. I'm not enough of a prophet. This is all I've got: A mild interest A middling significance A vague hope that someone will take care of the rest... Continue Reading →
Staring down a blank page like an empty two-lane interstate. Keep moving, keep on your way. Pick up a few clues from the landscape so you can approximate what state you're in, find names for the confusion and slowly fit a few pieces into place. Figure out what you're trying to say and if there's... Continue Reading →
I live at the corner of Loveliness and Despair, where Hope grows like a flowering weed, poisoning me when I touch it, unaware. I pull it by the roots, removing it with care, but new vines sprout up overnight and catch me in their snare.
Poetry has grown bored of me, as we sit together in front of the TV, having the same daily conversation, never moving to change the station. There's nothing new to say when we see the same thing every day, each of us waiting for a surprise while in the corner the fire slowly dies. Something... Continue Reading →
Some days I simply sizzle until the frustration fizzles. Though I smile, burning bright, my mood has some bite, but in the calm of night I'm pulling my fangs out of my own flesh, and regrets and doubts seep from the puncture wounds. I can't always behave perfectly but I would have done things differently.
Burnout fills the air like humidity I pluck my shirt's fabric from my sticky skin Try to stay presentable Hold it together, hold it all in Pull my hair back smooth and sleek Keep a composed smile, cheek to cheek But I think it would be nice To let it all go and run outside... Continue Reading →
Mismatched and slapdash A little of this, a little of that Zebra stripes, cheetah print, or plaid Muted colors or a bold palette, Offset with lots of black The strange collections I own From antique photos in sepia tones To horror decor, filling my home There's more to the story Than what I've shown Blame... Continue Reading →
Michelle Wicklow 