Pen and Paper
I am the slave,
the pen is my master.
It commands me to write,
more and more, faster and faster.
The paper is calling,
it’s screaming my name.
Why do they force me,
have they no shame?
Forced are my thoughts,
through the pen they do flow.
Who are they to coerce,
are they friends, are they foe?
I wish to stop now,
asylum I do seek.
For my hand does grow tired,
as well my mind grows weak.
But they won’t allow me to stop,
there’s no ending in sight.
They demand I continue,
so I shall… write, write, write.
Soulmate: Chapter 1 When Worlds Collide
An unidentified man lay on a floor, alone in a room enveloped in darkness but for a single light above his head. Slowly, he struggled to stand, then wavered a bit once he was on his feet. The light above his head illuminated the area immediately surrounding him, and no more. Looking out beyond the light, in all directions, he saw nothing. For a brief moment, panic washed over him, but he quickly regained his composure. He yelled out into the darkness, “Hello!” but heard nothing in response. He [...]
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