literary excerpts

The stars lean down every night
Just to press their lips against your skin
And I can’t help but simply lay here
Hoping that in time, I can do the same
If I close my eyes for a brief moment
You’ll slip right through my fingertips
I’m just so lost in my own misery
And you couldn’t possibly manage to find me
If but only within each of our dreams
My therapist claims that I am a tragedy
Constantly recalling the way
You took me by a storm
Only to leave just as quickly
She calls every day to remind me of those pills
Poisoned medication forced against my will
And I’d play hooky if I weren’t so caught up
Just wishing for your voice on the other line
The blue hue of my eyes, now a faded grey
Not that it really changes anything
But I feel like it’s seeping into my bloodstream
Modifying my perception of reality
My sense of mental stability
And I wonder if I was every really sane at all
The sun still rises at dawn
Continues to settle beneath the horizon
In the late evenings when I’m coming home
But it just isn’t the same without you anymore
The silence you’ve left behind is deafening
This house, no longer filled with your laughter
Or your warmth, or the sense of security
Or even hope, for that matter
I guess that’s why I keep trying
I keep mailing out those silly letters
Not that you will ever read them
I suppose I just like to think you will
It’s easier to accept that you won’t reply
Than it is to accept the fact that you’re gone
The thought of it brings a tear to my eye
I don’t really lay upon that bed anymore
Numerous comforters and blankets
Collecting dust of the fading memories
Though they still reside untouched
Precisely the way you left them
Because I can’t even imagine attempting
To sleep without you intertwined with me
Drowning in love beneath those satin sheets
It’s growing old, you know
The restless nights spent staring at my hands
Studying the crevices between each digit
Where your own once were
These thoughts are steadily consuming me
But when I think of you, I don’t feel so alone
And I still scream your name when I cry
So if you hear me next time
Send a postcard
Something along the lines of, “I’m fine”
Scribbled on the back of the place I long to be
The location of the man who never set me free
Because you were everything to me

As requested by @creatingnikki

As a child at six years old, I had a thing for princesses. You learned to shoot a water gun using your tears and not water. I wore a crown not made of gold nor flowers but thorns.

My eyes have always seen alternatives. In places of naught, I have seen everything. Everything that I have always wanted but not like this.

They say that what you see is what you get. For years, I always found myself looking at you except you were never mine. For a second I thought maybe looking wasn’t enough and maybe staring will do.

At 10 you wore a cape and then I point my wand. You were obsessed with superpowers while I drown in the world of magic. “If you were to have superpower, what do you want it to be?”

Spells would maybe quench my thirst for attention except what I really wanted from you was actually affection.

“Invisibility.” That’s what I wanted however, that would be too mainstream and besides, I grew up being invisible beside you anyway.

✧ Literary Excerpts ✧

Aries ↓

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” – Jack Kerouac, On The Road

Taurus ↓

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” - Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Gemini ↓

“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.” – H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

Cancer ↓

"When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month. I could have cried over it. I did. Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table. I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse? You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.” – Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

Leo ↓

"There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there.” – Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

Virgo ↓

"Try to imagine a life without timekeeping. You probably can’t. You know the month, the year, the day of the week. There is a clock on your wall or the dashboard of your car. You have a schedule, a calendar, a time for dinner or a movie. Yet all around you, timekeeping is ignored. Birds are not late. A dog does not check its watch. Deer do not fret over passing birthdays. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And, because of this, man alone suffers a paralyzing fear that no other creature endures. A fear of time running out.” – Mitch Albom, The Time Keeper

Libra ↓

"I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do. Mrs Dubose won, all ninety-eight pounds of her. According to her views, she died beholden to nothing and nobody. She was the bravest person I ever knew.” - Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

Scorpio ↓

“Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. “I’m okay” we say. “I’m alright”. But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can’t get it off. That’s when you realize that sometimes it isn’t even an answer–it’s a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.” - Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Sagittarius ↓

"It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.” - Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation

Capricorn ↓

“I don’t have any problem understanding why people flunk out of college or quit their jobs or cheat on each other or break the law or spray-paint walls. A little bit outside of things is where some people feel each other. We do it to replace the frame of family. We do it to erase and remake our origins in their own images. To say, I too was here.” – Lidia Yuknavitch, The Chronology of Water

Aquarius ↓

"If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” - Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Pisces ↓

"Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that. You forget some things, dont you? Yes. You forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget.” – Cormac McCarthy, The Road


I think you are the coolest thing since the time I realized reindeer were real animals. I like staring at your face. I wish this was poetic but your face just gets me. I wasn’t suppose to really care about you. You aren’t suppose to be this amazing. I’ve never met someone with quite as much substance as you. I know I’ve only known you a month so this is stupid but you remind of the right kind of silences. Like the beach in the morning. Or right before you fall asleep in between states of consciousness. Or when you walk down your school hallway and there isn’t one sound. Those silences make me feel safe.
Like I exist and nothing is wrong. I don’t want to turn you into a metaphor. I can’t objectify you. I’ve calculated all the different ways I can arrange my sentences, hopeful that one would make you see just how interesting we are together. I don’t expect you to stick around and honesty I’m a very flakey person.
But I needed to say it: you’re such a wonderful thing. I really like your noggin, so much I want shake your brains out your ears and paint the walls with it. All I’m saying is I didn’t even mind that you put me in a chokehold in a taco place.
All I’m saying is people should wear you on a cross necklace and adore you for centuries.

Maybe all I have ever needed
Was some kind of automobile
To help me escape the arms of my past
But I never would have thought
That by getting onto that plane
I’d land right next to you
I suppose every aspect of life
That’s ever weighed in all to heavily
Makes a little bit of sense now
That you’ve come around
Because I couldn’t ever manage
To love you in any real way
Had I not ever been introduced
To the loss or the suffering that
Comes when it slips through my hands
In time, we could run away
Sail across the oceans
On a raft crafted from plastic bottles
And cardboard boxes bound together
With twine and muck and moss
From the shoreline
Make that journey
To back pack for 43 days
Across Europe
Just to see the Leaning Tower and the Eiffel
To go visit the little town
Where your dad is from just like we planned
Come back to the states in a few months
To do just the same
But trade in those silly packs
For our old 60’s style car
Go on an extended vacation
To a miscellaneous location
Just to say we’ve made a few memories there
Take photographs every day
To remember how brightly we smiled so brightly
And when the light in your eyes
Starts to fade, or you can’t find the
Drive to stand on your own two feet
Because your world just weighs to much
And it causes your lungs to collapse
From all of the pressure
I’ll be able to carry it for you
I just want you to be able to breathe

sext: When you first touched my leg my heart was a still lake where before I could only hear the “oh god, oh god” of the brush of his fingertips. I have spent the last year coughing soot, but you tell me I reignited the flame in your throat. Is this what it feels like to be the fire and not the stake? Forgive me for being childish, but I would like to see you burn.

Sade Andria Zabala | Sexts

My books are available on etsy // WAR SONGS // Coffee & Cigarettes.

Nights like these need soundtracks.

I’ll drown my sorrows with gasoline
Light a match to burn every memory
So that one day, just maybe
The stars that once danced so carelessly
Within the bright blue hue of my eyes
Will return to my side with the company
Of a perfectly crafted pearl smile
But for tonight, I’ll sit at the bar
Ordering countless remedies for depression
That never quite seem to last
Perhaps in time this misery will let me pass
Into some grand painting of a pasture
Filled with an array of wildflowers and fauna
With no boundaries, no limitations
So that I too can boil over my edge
Seeping like blood from the veins of a virgin
Consumed by the Earth for whatever purpose
Taking the place of every damaged root
Every severed seam beneath the surface
It’s hard to believe the beauty
I once found so easily within your soul
Allowed the darkness to grow roots
Of his own within you
But I knew that someone was bound to
And now your corpse wastes away
Within every thought infecting my brain
So like the captain of a faulty plane
I’ll find comfort in the thought of crashing
Choosing to believe that when
My skull bashes against the panels
Now resting beneath my sweaty palms
That I’ll finally find a way to be free

Seeking Writers!

I am looking for people who love to write it doesn’t matter whether you write fanfiction or poetry, writing is writing. I have started a new little project for myself, a literary magazine, though at the moment I’m only thinking of one issue, future issues depend on how well things go this time round. I need your help, I am searching for submissions of: Book reviews, Personal Essays, Poetry and Short Stories. You can submit several pieces of work, all the same type or you might want to send in one short story and a couple of poems, that is perfectly fine. The magazine will be published online and each person who contributes will receive a copy, likely a PDF, of the magazine in its entirety for personal use. Previously I didn’t have a closing date for submissions in mind but I would love to have this all finished and ready to go for the start of July, so the deadline for submissions is June 17th.

Please e-mail submissions or any questions to

“Communication is truth; communication is happiness. To share is our duty; to go down boldly and bring to light those hidden thoughts which are the most diseased; to conceal nothing; to pretend nothing; if we are ignorant to say so; if we love our friends to let them know it.” 

—from The Common Reader by Virginia Woolf 


Excerpts from “Prolonged Misunderstanding” by Ryan Jones at Rowan University