Meet my dragon, Bob.
Never be rude around him.
You look flammable.

The dark corners of my skull are filled with voices.
They're loud,
echoing in the silence that my lost tongue leaves for them,
giving life to the deep chambers that sit behind my empty eyes.

When they want to speak,
I can't help but listen.
Their voices fill me with vitality,
though it be one with a sinister and violent nature,
and one invisible to the observing eye.

I may be but inanimate.
A relic of a life long past.
A skull picked clean by birds of prey and scavengers,
​set upon a dusty shelf to be forgotten.
But what once lent me power over my fellow man
dwells inside me still.
The fires may appear dead and cold,
but one day they will once again arise,
flickering inside my empty eyes,
ready to light the world aflame once more.

My power will shake the foundations of this earth,
and all will be tossed down again,
kneeling at my feet with head bowed,
ready to serve their true master once more.

Stumble through the words you want to say,
and try to get your point across.
It'll work eventually.
Frustration will peak, yes.
But don't stop for that.
Stutters do not
negate your
feelings'
worth.

There comes a point,
where I've done so much people-ing,
that I can no longer sort the fantastic from the mundane.
The world around me blurs.

No amount of blinking or head-tilting
can bring it into focus again.
Landscapes and faces alike
all seem to lose their definition,
no longer important or holding any meaning.

Along with the fuzziness of the world around me,
the words that I want to say
start to crumble on my tongue.
Their composite parts no loner fitting together,
they collapse from my mouth in gibberish,
for fight with each other,
until only raw chunks of sound emerge instead of whole thoughts.

When I get to that point,
I have to retreat from the masses.
My room becomes my sanctuary,
and the stillness helps me regain my equilibrium.
What remains of my sanity
slowly returns,
dripping back into me like clear cold water
after a long summer day.
And the world makes sense again,
falling back into sharp focus,
rather than blobs of color shifting in front of my eyes.

Follow the trail of words...
Sentences spiraling into untraceable shapes,
dancing through thickets of tongues,
drawing thoughts and fragments from nothing,
and chasing down stray memories.

The words travel through the worlds they create,
leading us along with them,
through chaos and carnage,
sobs and sorrow,
heroism and happiness.

Walk with them,
listen as they whisper in your ears.
Follow their stories,
and leave your own behind for a while.
They will be your escape,
​if you let them.

So. Many. Cosplays!
Armor and weapons and props,
I must see them all!

Where the snow fell last night,
powdered drifts spread and scattered,
dulling all sound,
like cotton stuffed into your ears.

You can barely hear
the soft crunch that your feet make
as they break the surface.

The ground is no longer smooth now.
Black breadcrumbs lead back
to where you began your journey.
A force undeterred by the chill
and stillness.
Ready to explore this strange
pale world.

It's only now that you notice
that with each print you left behind,
each step that you carefully made,
clawed, deep prints have misaligned with yours,
as if they'd passed through a dark mirror,
traveling back the way you came.

As you left your quiet home and quiet family,
that beast that you know far too well,
that you thought you'd banished to die
in the wasteland outside yourself,
in the dark frost,
crept back, right beside you,
to that haven of warmth and comfort.

And it's hungry.
You know its hunger,
its needs,
and now there's nothing you can do to stop it.
Because as you turn back towards that cozy cottage,
a muffled scream skips over the frozen earth,
barely reaching you.
Now, there's nothing to return to.
You are alone
​with the beast.

I think that everyone can write.
You don't have to have novels under your belt,
or certificates, or competition wins.
Because you know what?
If that's what you want,
then you have to start somewhere.

Every book is made up of hundreds of paragraphs or lines,
which are just words and sometimes punctuation.
That's all they are.
So you have to start there.

Pick up a pen,
or open your laptop.
Stare that blank page in the face.

It's terrifying, I know.

You're probably thinking things like:
What if what I put down sounds stupid?
What if doesn't resonate the way I want it to?
What if I don't turn out to be the next Shakespeare or Stephen King?

Well, if those words that are building up inside you
never get released,
then how do you know if they'll ever mean something more to you
than just an idea?
And how will you know,
if they won't mean something to someone else?

Until you try,
all that you hold inside of you
is an endless potential.
It's waiting for you,
because you have something that needs to be said,
and you have a story that needs to be told.

​Please, for all of us who are waiting with baited breath
to hear and read your words,
and whose lives your writing will change,
and for yourself.
Write.

Good and evil. Black
and white. They're falsehoods. The truth?
We're so many shades.

Watch the world
Watch it spin
Spin through space
Spin the days
Days flying by
Days creeping past
Past your fading hair dye
Past your uneven fingernails
Fingernails without paint
Fingernails hiding yesterday's filth
Filth you have clawed out
Filth from the insults
Insults thrown your way
Insults seeping into the air you breathe
Breathe hot ash
Breathe stones and sticks
Sticks that bruise
Sticks constantly breaking
Breaking in two
Breaking you
You can only dodge so many
You have to fall sometime
Sometime there will be collateral damage
Sometime soon
Soon you will move to slowly
Soon you will meet the ground
Ground will not cushion you
Ground that only cares to spin
Spin as the earth moves on
Spin without a thought for you
You can fall
You can whimper
Whimper at the pain
Whimper for mercy
Mercy to stop the sticks and stones
Mercy in any form
Form a shield
Form then appears
Appears so unexpected
Appears a friend
Friend with a hand outstretched
Friend lifting you off the dirt
Dirt steady beneath you
Dirt that watches the days pass
Pass from humiliation
Pass into peace
Peace the world is still spinning
Peace a warm embrace
Spinning
​Embrace