The Life of Sansara Solsinger: Savior of Mankind

Creative writing regarding reality itself.

A poem or song thingy.

A poem or song or something like that.

A poem about a maiden fair with raven hair.

Memoir of a ginger tom cat. I love you, Ruth. You're an angel.

A letter to a random somebody, somewhere, in a random dimension at a random time.

I still remember that your eyes are the stars in my sky, watching over me as I sleep. Your hair hangs like the curtain between me and my dreams, or perhaps it's between me and reality? I never knew how blissful the faintest hint of your smile would make me until I witnessed that miracle myself. The soft pink of your lips reminds me of the pearly side of sea shells and cotton candy and I bet they're just as sweet. Your romantic melodies haunt my soul and I crave to have you nearby. And every time you leave, I feel a little emptier than the time before and I realize it's because I miss you. Even though we get so excited over being half-ignored, you have my full attention any time you want it, darling.

A journal entry from long ago.

The formula for bad voodoo.

Creative writing.