Submissions

10/15/2025 1:20:51 Untitled design (10) by Anonymous.

10/14/2025 18:46:46 Existentialism Paper #1 Rough Draft (intro) by Jason Mentonis.

At night: I drift through the street as if it’s mine alone, humming songs to no one but streetlights and empty benches. I tell myself I am free - free to walk, to think, to ruin the next morning. There is a quiet rhythm to a world that sleeps while I wake; and the air feels heavier when no one else is awake to breathe it. Still, I know exactly what would make me feel better. Neglect, half-eaten meals, fractured sleep, sour lungs and sore eyes - yet there’s a strange clarity in the chaos, a kind of tethering to life in the refusal to be well. Still I know exactly what would restore me, but I don’t. I can’t. And in that not-doing, in that little rebellion against what is good, I am alive in a way that reason could never dictate.

9/23/2025 0:46:14 by Anonymous.

lacerating sun
why must you poke me mother?
for how will you see?

It's all love and Pelican by Anna Tolmanov.

8/29/2025 18:43:04 by Anna Tolmanov.

8/27/2025 21:29:51 by a molting blue Jay.

The distance
Grown too far. it must be right
To forget the feelings that can’t be reconciled.

It’s instant.
when you’re finally out of sight;
It can’t be helped, my mind wants to hide.

My hindrance
Is self imposed, yet kindred; a fight
Against nobody. An enemy who cannot die

I listen
To your sound, staying, despite
Fraying unwinding ties I should’ve let fly.

Too intense
For me to process, too loud to quiet,
Too real for me to accept, so I’ll deny

Limerence
Unrequited, never sighted.
A lover who will never see me cry.

8/27/2025 14:50:01 by Hobo Henry.

I met the other northbound hiker yesterday, "Earthy" or Ollie. He took a short day due to rain and beer.

More stars last night than I'd ever seen. Strange alien highland on top of the world. I slept cowboy watching the Milky Way for half the night before the dew set in.

I haven't spoken more than six words to anyone in two days. I haven't known what time it is since Sunday. I think I'm going sane.

Storm chased me over the mesa before surrounding me and hurling lightning a half mile away at the treeline. It kind of hung in the air for a second, splitting the view in two before sending red sparks flying. I set up camp ASAP in the willow shrub while God used a chisel and hammer above.

I think I should lay off the unlimited $1 coffee in Lake city. I forgot I'm not allowed to pick my nose just anywhere.

You aren't him, aren't ya! - signing off

8/26/25 19:31:55 "Project 1_MG.pdf" A post-tonal analysis of a Bartók work by miss little jazz master.

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