listen
paws &
a safe 'lil corner for anyone to share their own adventure.
have a story, poem, song, artwork, or any kind of creative piece that
-
you want to put out there but don't have a space to?
-
would be healing for you to share, but only if done anonymously?
-
means a lot to you and you'd want a 'lil
corner to host it?
...well, welcome.
I encourage you to share yourself - put your work out into the world. You never know if it will resonate, connect with or inspire somebody else. Really. :')
you've found the right place :)
and when I say your space, I mean your space.
You decide the font, background, formatting. You decide your level of anonymity, how much or little to say.
This space is here to empower you :)
(and whatever kind of story you share - joyful, heartbreaking, regretful, or anything in between - I am here to paws and listen.)
"Lady Elf"
written by my friend Emile.
An entire ocien exists between us, that cuts me
She is byond my reach, that stabs me
techtonic plates separts her from my arms, this burns me
The coffee shop proletariat knows her not,
He knows not the lady elf he hands coffee to.
He knows not that she is a Godess amonge termits,
How I envy to be the proletariat, to hear her voice
to gaze as she sips,
to soak in as she breaths
to halt time as she leaves the coffee shop
As she glides away.
june 2, 2019
"There is an empty chair at Thanksgiving"
written by my friend Emile.
October 10, 2020
There is an empty chair at Thanksgiving
Each thanksgiving aroun the table there is a blank space
There is no one siting there.
The consistent chatter and banter of family members
throuhout the night. I sit at the table in
silence, and not feeling hungery. One family member is
missing. Each year I send an inventation, each year. She
refuses to attend. Lady Elf and I used to sing to each other.
Well, she was the one who did most of the singing. A voice
so soothing, it would cure cancer. A presence so scarce,
it's of the secondary world. Each year I picture her there
at Thanksgiving. I keep reminding myself
that, no, she's not coming, yet the sorrow does not
lessen.
Love letter to St. Blasien
written by my friend Emile.
November 30, 2019
"Fluctuations"
written by my friend Emile.
03 / 12 / 2020
"Fluctuations"
Lady Elf, said she "I love you too."
I believed her to real, to be genuine.
Said I "Don't worry Pia; I'll never let you fall."
Lady Elf, said she "I know you won't."
I felt weightless, celestial in her pure greyish-blue
eyes.
Lady Elf, said she "You're my best friend."
It felt of this world, felt non-fiction.
Lady Elf, said she "You can always depend on me."
Hope would flow through my arteries, she was the pulse
which became my drive.
Lady Elf, said she "Will you raise a child with me?"
Bliss striked me as a hockey puck, life became more
complet, felt worth living.
Lady Elf, said she "You're just as important to me as him."
Wait...what the fuck? Perplexion drowed me.
Lady Elf, said she "It's family only, No, YOU can't come."
Exclusion, betrayal clawed at my lungs. I believed
that you loved me.
Lady Elf, said she "Well, that's how I felt at the time."
Worthlessness, failure as a husband, as an adult.
Lady Elf, said she "No, I won't help you through your
crisis, because you're a male."
I am a cadaver, decaying. A turkey freezer after
Thanksgiving, void of anything sustaining.