a poem on bisexuality

/// a story about lucy. but then it's also about a group of burnouts. the official, revised, rerelease of 'cocaine' . . . cover cred: deadbeat-

Can death be conquered? When Immanuel Winter set off to the banks of the Thames, he never thought his life would be changed forever. Emmeline Jardine, a young Spiritualist medium, drowns, but the potion given to Immanuel by his mother brings her back from the dead and irrevocably intertwines their souls. But Emmeline and Immanuel aren’t the only ones aware of his ancestors’ legacy. Understanding the potential of such an elixir, the ruthlessly ambitious Alastair Rose knows securing the mysteries of death will get him everything he desires: power, a title, but more importantly, dominion over the dead and the living. Unaware of what the dashing madman is capable of, Emmeline follows him deeper into a world of corrupt mediums, unscrupulous scientists, and murder. All that stands between Lord Rose and his prize is the boy who refuses to die, but both men know the key to stopping him lies within the girl who shares Immanuel’s soul. The Ingenious Mechanical Devices Series: The Earl of Brass The Winter Garden All the works that are posted under my screen name are mine exclusively and cannot be reproduced, altered, or used in any manner without my permission.

A collection of poems I have written on the phase states of my brain.

"Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of skrimshander." from MOBY DICK, by Herman Melville

They call her June; Was born in Month, A bit of weird, And was always smart. They call her June; A girl of plain, Unflavored life, And boring game. They call her June; A serious nerd, Who always wear Glasses for blurred. They call her June; And laughed at her, She was insulted, But she just stared. They call her June and She wrote a poem.

A collection of poetry - Something whimsical

My second collection of anything and everything.

i see stars when i think of you.

Quinn scribbles tainted emotions across thin layers of white paper. But to who? To someone who blinks once, sees her, and blinks again-just to make her disappear. To someone who sees her as a symbol of the ocean. To someone who thinks the ocean is disgusting and hideous, filled with trash and pathetic wandering fishes. To someone who believes that Quinn needs to be a size zero to be labeled as 'beautiful.' If she isn't, why in the world will anyone care to love her? She's disgusting. Worthless. An enormous sailboat that makes the world sink. But how long will it take until she sinks herself?