A poem by P. G. I no longer fear the light that shines so brightly from my soul I no longer fear the weight nor weary of what comes with...

A poem by P. G. if you're reading this, i'm glad (and i mean it) if you're reading this, i'm scared (and i mean it) if you're reading...

and what a strange sensation it is to roll over wiggle the aliens on my hands and feet

A poem by P. G. i. June again or so they tell me. I can't keep track anymore nor do I care to so it's June again sticky hot lost lost...

‘If music be the food of love, play on; / give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / the appetite may sicken, and so die,” says the Bard...

it was me who destroyed that painting in the bedroom...

Dear, Mother is a creative nonfiction piece from P. G.

And so who are you then? All I see is a skeleton high and alone in a bed...

A poem by P. G. Memories float on, saccharine, like warm eighth notes, They tease my fingers as I reach, reach, reach stretching and...