burntblue
Profile
look. don’t freak out or anything but I’m a playwright. I can’t help myself. I uncap my pen and voices come out. Sometimes I like them. Sometimes not. And sometimes it’s just a way of arguing with myself. But I can’t seem to help it.
It’s quite a wild feeling to sit in a crowd and watch other people act your words. It’s terrifying and wonderful and addictive.
i like photography because it makes me happy…. but my hands make better poems and textual adventures. So far.
“A writer cannot ‘just write’... a writer must look at the stars, read, and plant trees, and raise children. A writer can snorkel, climb mountains, work another job, make eggs and toast, and eat ‘em, and sing off key… a writer must do ‘window time’.”—Theodore Sturgeon
Journal Entries
queer writers ahoy! Calls for submissions - various
Posted 13 days ago, 1 comment so far.
links for writers
Posted 2 months ago, 1 comment so far.
featured - marigold and under the bed
Posted 4 months ago, 1 comment so far.
help me buy some art?
Posted 4 months ago, 13 comments so far.
my addiction
Posted 4 months ago, 4 comments so far.
featured - my mother
Posted 6 months ago, 4 comments so far.
smoko - a monologue
This content is not visible because the safe filter is on.Writing
blush
This content is not visible because the safe filter is on.frailty
She is a balloon ascending high, in rough winds / And he is her tether to the ground. / Tenuous. The tight string pulling.
my mother
This grief is a dark monkey clinging to my neck / His spider limbs swinging / His fingers are in my eyes again, tugging, tugging
under the bed
my heart is hatching / warmed by the constant humidity / the swelling monsoon of sorrow
heatwave
This content is not visible because the safe filter is on.crush
I am hot to my core / Spilling open like a seed pod splitting / Bursting in the wildfire that your grin brings me
