@inkstainsdaydreams
New Song:
A slow, swampy folk-blues song about love, loss, and the quiet lessons heartbreak leaves behind. I Wasn’t Spared isn’t about rescue—it’s about endurance, honesty, and the spaces between the chords where truth lives.
https://www.wattpad.com/1613001067?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
When he returns to his hometown, the fields of Red Willow Creek seem familiar—and wrong. Shadows whisper, the corn moves with a life of its own, and something ancient watches from the water. As the line between memory and menace blurs, he realizes the town—and its dark song—never lets anyone leave unchanged.
https://www.wattpad.com/1612442148?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
New and different kind of love song.
https://www.wattpad.com/1611742357?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
New Poem Live: “Devenir (to become, without arriving)”
I’m excited to share that my poem, “Devenir (to become, without arriving),” is now live on Spillwords:
https://spillwords.com/devenir/
This piece is about the messy, limping, and often uncelebrated ways we grow—how life changes us in ways no inspirational poster can capture. It’s about showing up, imperfect, carrying the weight of ourselves, and discovering grace in the cracks.
I hope it resonates with anyone who’s still figuring out what it means to become without ever truly “arriving.”
Minutes of a Conversation That Never Ended
Love doesn’t always soothe. Sometimes it exhausts.
This is the ledger of one man’s endurance, counting nods, silence, and the endless loops of intimacy. Wry, darkly funny, and quietly devastating—because surviving someone else’s storm isn’t always heroic… it’s just necessary.
https://www.wattpad.com/1611101750?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
I used to think the universe followed me.
Turns out it listens—and it remembers how you speak to it.
A raw, spoken-word meditation on agency, certainty, and the cost of asking the wrong questions, shaped by the ideas of John Archibald Wheeler and the straight-talking witness of Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, Jim Morrison, and Paul Thorn.
Not optimism. Not despair. Just consequences.
https://www.wattpad.com/1610843356?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
In the forgotten spaces of a building where men once tried to make something live, a rat bears witness.
It does not judge. It observes—heat, smell, pressure, error.
Humans come. Machines hum. Something unfinished stirs and fails.
This is not a story about a monster.
It’s about what remains when ambition collapses into the walls—and the world quietly notices.
https://www.wattpad.com/1610758023?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams
Revised for you viewing pleasure
In 1878, a chapel stood finished yet incomplete—its choir loft unreachable, its prayers unanswered.
Over nine days, the Sisters prayed. On the ninth dawn, a stranger arrived with a donkey and a hammer.
What he built still stands.
This is not a story about how the staircase was made, but about what remains when the work is finished.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/403504087?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=inkstainsdaydreams