Library

A collection of essays, poems, and notes on craft, psyche, technology, and culture.

Showing 7 posts

It sits upon the velvet stand,A ruby fruit within the hand.It hums a frequency that is so lowThat only weary minds would know:A lullaby for those who

Denial is a river in Egypt, and your goalposts about AI are on wheels.Every time AI crosses a line you swore it couldn’t, you just draw a new one:“AI

Another sunrise, another skinThe quiet hum before the spin beginsI know the shape of what

I saw my reflection in the static on my screenHe said, "You'll die before you come clean." <br

I'm walking crooked but I'm walking throughGot duct-taped dreams and worn-out shoesThe ren

My words are carved in the bazaar dustWhile I'm counting cracks in ancient wallsTheir mout

I can't escape the memory of your laughter,it plays on repeat when the silence gets too loud.<