Crazy ScottyThis is a poem, the bulk of which I wrote my junior year of high school.

Resting cranium on locker,
I recalled there playing soccer
With my friends at gym, and noting their obsession with the crude,
Looking in myself to find that something similar there stewed,
Finding darkness deep, more dismal than the dusk had e’er been hued
There a wrecking ball ensued.

I’d glimpsed in me, raging ocean
Thrashing with a violent motion
To ensure my soul’s erosion in its own depravity,
And to kill in me the notion that a speck of hope could be
Ever fished from such a swirling, whirling maelstrom of a sea.
It was hellfire; it was me. Continue reading



crazywriterI was feeling clever one day. I’d been thinking a lot about fanfiction–how some of it is really good and some of it is horrifically bad. Have you ever stumbled upon one of the bad ones online? You’re reading, and everything is going along smoothly–until one thing happens, then another thing, and then it’s pretty much erotica. Yeah, that’s when it gets bad.

I wanted to put a new meaning on “dirty fanfiction.” So I wrote about dirt. I guess it’s not really a fanfiction, because it’s not of anything. But…here it is.

Mister Dirtman woke up to the feeling of being stepped upon, over and over and over again. Serves me right, he thought. All I am is dirt. And by dirt, Mister Dirtman literally meant it–dirt.

Continue reading