#patrick-w-marsh — Public Fediverse posts

Saturday Morning: A Poem about Nostalgia, Grief, and Simplicity

Keep resurrecting and rebuilding
old graphics, pixels, theme songs, and art styles.
Once exiled, dead, against a backdrop
of change, licensing, and technology.

I’m old now, my skin is dry.
My friends look more akin to their parents,
and my memories pick and
choose when to reappear.

I want that dream-kiss.
The wonder-bite of happy and suspense
I had on Saturday mornings when the X-Men roared
across time and space.

To make me happy.
To leave the past and present
of bullies, divorce, homework, and bills.
A graveyard of living without dreams and joys.

Even if they’re bad, these resurrected and reanimated
corpses of childhood
they’ll sing to me, remind me,
there was once a bit of jeweled, cartoon-wonder

within me.

Saturday Morning: A Poem about Nostalgia, Grief, and Simplicity

Keep resurrecting and rebuilding
old graphics, pixels, theme songs, and art styles.
Once exiled, dead, against a backdrop
of change, licensing, and technology.

I’m old now, my skin is dry.
My friends look more akin to their parents,
and my memories pick and
choose when to reappear.

I want that dream-kiss.
The wonder-bite of happy and suspense
I had on Saturday mornings when the X-Men roared
across time and space.

To make me happy.
To leave the past and present
of bullies, divorce, homework, and bills.
A graveyard of living without dreams and joys.

Even if they’re bad, these resurrected and reanimated
corpses of childhood
they’ll sing to me, remind me,
there was once a bit of jeweled, cartoon-wonder

within me.

Empty Spaces: A Poem about Clutter, Love, and Loss

My dog knew it right away.
She was inside your car
surrounded by boxes, bags, papers,
clothes, and more boxes. A fortress
of clutter, material, and belongings.
So tight, she felt scared, and whined.
The walls were closing, clawing, and tightening
phantom hands around our throats.

We were broken before we knew we were.
The cardboard was the beacon, the blazing fire-eye
Sauron-spying over the darkness of our apartment,
highlighting the labyrinth of clutter and memory.
Its corridors meant to distract, occupy,
and prevent us from knowing
we were suffocated, buried by each
corrugated wall, with its shipping label mortar.

Books, movies, TVs, games, video games,
computers, posters, notebooks,
pencils, pens, toys,
artwork, clothes, and furniture.
We stuffed that one-bedroom apartment to the brim.
They were just abandoned cities
always hoping for Avalon, but still,
it was simply a repeating Atlantis

We tried, we did,
crammed together like an Indiana Jones trap
with squares instead of spikes and poison darts.
No matter how many foundations we laid
it was always a sandcastle
with empty love refusing to stand.
We should have just admitted

they were never strong enough.

Empty Spaces: A Poem about Clutter, Love, and Loss

My dog knew it right away.
She was inside your car
surrounded by boxes, bags, papers,
clothes, and more boxes. A fortress
of clutter, material, and belongings.
So tight, she felt scared, and whined.
The walls were closing, clawing, and tightening
phantom hands around our throats.

We were broken before we knew we were.
The cardboard was the beacon, the blazing fire-eye
Sauron-spying over the darkness of our apartment,
highlighting the labyrinth of clutter and memory.
Its corridors meant to distract, occupy,
and prevent us from knowing
we were suffocated, buried by each
corrugated wall, with its shipping label mortar.

Books, movies, TVs, games, video games,
computers, posters, notebooks,
pencils, pens, toys,
artwork, clothes, and furniture.
We stuffed that one-bedroom apartment to the brim.
They were just abandoned cities
always hoping for Avalon, but still,
it was simply a repeating Atlantis

We tried, we did,
crammed together like an Indiana Jones trap
with squares instead of spikes and poison darts.
No matter how many foundations we laid
it was always a sandcastle
with empty love refusing to stand.
We should have just admitted

they were never strong enough.

Dreams Don’t Come Gift Wrapped

I’m scared for my sons in so many different ways.

I’m scared that I can’t provide for them. I’m scared that I’ve let my own trauma nest and thrive in their souls before they journeyed out into the world. I’m scared that we have so thoroughly obliterated the environment that they’ll permanently have a horizon of ash and smoke for an evening sky.

I’m scared that they’ll be bullied like I was, by not only strangers, but their own family. I’m scared they’ll seek the wrong people in their relationships, thinking they have to perform for love instead of simply loving themselves.

However, out of that whole galaxy of fear and sadness, what I worry the most about with them is that they’ll let their dreams die on the altar of modern life and its throttle of superficial demands.

Those dreams, the ones they got so excited about after a field trip to a zoo or museum in elementary school, will just evaporate against the complicated backdrop of growing up and wanting to be accepted. The car ride conversations, talking to me about what stories, drawings, and animations they want to make.

I cannot quantify how precious those threads of dreaming and ambition are in their little voices. It is beautiful beyond all reason, and I do feel privileged to hear them describe their dreams.

That being said, acknowledging the sanctity and beauty of dreams in our children isn’t necessarily a life-changing tip. No, my tip, and how it relates to dreams is pretty simple:

They don’t come gift-wrapped.

Dreams aren’t supposed to be easy; whether it is living them, fulfilling them, embracing them, or whatever verb or adjective you want to use. They are difficult to snare and hold onto. You’re pulling an eel out of the mud. You’re finding a four-leaf-clover on a jade hill. You’re scouring the abyss for a few swings of a snowy tentacle hanging off a giant squid. You’re submitting hundreds of times a year hoping to get published just once.

Dreams are beautiful, but they are clay on a wheel, and you constantly have to spin and center them or they dry out. They require upkeep, reinvention, evolution, and most of all work.

It isn’t supposed to be easy, and the idea of a dream doesn’t necessarily mean a final destination. No matter how many poems, books, stories, and posts I make or get published, my dream doesn’t have final a boss. There is no ending. It is simply a complicated word for a journey, lifestyle, or way of life. Expect your dreams to be as messy as other parts of your existence. Afterall, they incorporate the very same emotions, forces, and magnetisms as any other plot point in your narrative arc.

It’s okay that your dreams are shoddy, waylaid, incomplete, or awkward. That doesn’t strip them of their beauty. They are a context and communication for how you see yourself in this world.

They’re undeniably you.

Dreams Don’t Come Gift Wrapped

I’m scared for my sons in so many different ways.

I’m scared that I can’t provide for them. I’m scared that I’ve let my own trauma nest and thrive in their souls before they journeyed out into the world. I’m scared that we have so thoroughly obliterated the environment that they’ll permanently have a horizon of ash and smoke for an evening sky.

I’m scared that they’ll be bullied like I was, by not only strangers, but their own family. I’m scared they’ll seek the wrong people in their relationships, thinking they have to perform for love instead of simply loving themselves.

However, out of that whole galaxy of fear and sadness, what I worry the most about with them is that they’ll let their dreams die on the altar of modern life and its throttle of superficial demands.

Those dreams, the ones they got so excited about after a field trip to a zoo or museum in elementary school, will just evaporate against the complicated backdrop of growing up and wanting to be accepted. The car ride conversations, talking to me about what stories, drawings, and animations they want to make.

I cannot quantify how precious those threads of dreaming and ambition are in their little voices. It is beautiful beyond all reason, and I do feel privileged to hear them describe their dreams.

That being said, acknowledging the sanctity and beauty of dreams in our children isn’t necessarily a life-changing tip. No, my tip, and how it relates to dreams is pretty simple:

They don’t come gift-wrapped.

Dreams aren’t supposed to be easy; whether it is living them, fulfilling them, embracing them, or whatever verb or adjective you want to use. They are difficult to snare and hold onto. You’re pulling an eel out of the mud. You’re finding a four-leaf-clover on a jade hill. You’re scouring the abyss for a few swings of a snowy tentacle hanging off a giant squid. You’re submitting hundreds of times a year hoping to get published just once.

Dreams are beautiful, but they are clay on a wheel, and you constantly have to spin and center them or they dry out. They require upkeep, reinvention, evolution, and most of all work.

It isn’t supposed to be easy, and the idea of a dream doesn’t necessarily mean a final destination. No matter how many poems, books, stories, and posts I make or get published, my dream doesn’t have final a boss. There is no ending. It is simply a complicated word for a journey, lifestyle, or way of life. Expect your dreams to be as messy as other parts of your existence. Afterall, they incorporate the very same emotions, forces, and magnetisms as any other plot point in your narrative arc.

It’s okay that your dreams are shoddy, waylaid, incomplete, or awkward. That doesn’t strip them of their beauty. They are a context and communication for how you see yourself in this world.

They’re undeniably you.

“Life is suffering. It is hard. The world is cursed, but still, you find reasons to keep living.”

I did not write that line. I directly quoted it from Princess Mononoke by Hayao Miyazaki. It is spoken by a leper, who talks fondly of the woman (a warrior/warlord named Lady Oboshi) who actually treats the lepers in this world and story like human beings.

She gives them a reason for living or meaning in a world that is repulsed by their very existence. They find joy in the ability to be useful, have use, or being part of a team. Despite being degraded by society, they continue to live having found a reason for themselves to continue.

The reason I led with this quote is because I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but I do believe that you have an innate power within you to keep living for a reason. To find reasons for joy and happiness. Reason is attainable, but not always certain. It is within that fog of trying to make sense of hardships that people crumble. I know I have before.

This inherent momentum to find a reason happens regardless of what your heart and mind feels. This force exists on some bestial plain inside of you. Your cells, the very fabric of your being on a subatomic level, want to continue and flourish. Your lungs are constantly refilling themselves without you even thinking about it. Blueprints of instinct and survival are built into you in an array of skeletal schematics passed down through thousands of years.

The very DNA engines and mechanisms of your body mirror that of the cosmos in their design. We’re forged from the furnace of a dying star. We’re ripped from oblivion and sculpted through an uncountable number of forces and physics until we’re here.

And, that process means something and wants to continue. So finding reason in moments of complete despair and nothingness is an inherent biological reaction.

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but we can be the reason why things keep happening.

That doesn’t mean giving up, the pain of living, and suicide aren’t real things we will deal with. I have been suicidal before. I write about it often. I got through it. That doesn’t mean I would be able to survive the most horrendous of hardships. I’m just saying that perhaps the most fundamental part of being human, the biological energy that powers your meat sack of a hide, wants to keep going.

Life, or living, finds reasons, even when the heart and mind cannot.

“Life is suffering. It is hard. The world is cursed, but still, you find reasons to keep living.”

I did not write that line. I directly quoted it from Princess Mononoke by Hayao Miyazaki. It is spoken by a leper, who talks fondly of the woman (a warrior/warlord named Lady Oboshi) who actually treats the lepers in this world and story like human beings.

She gives them a reason for living or meaning in a world that is repulsed by their very existence. They find joy in the ability to be useful, have use, or being part of a team. Despite being degraded by society, they continue to live having found a reason for themselves to continue.

The reason I led with this quote is because I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but I do believe that you have an innate power within you to keep living for a reason. To find reasons for joy and happiness. Reason is attainable, but not always certain. It is within that fog of trying to make sense of hardships that people crumble. I know I have before.

This inherent momentum to find a reason happens regardless of what your heart and mind feels. This force exists on some bestial plain inside of you. Your cells, the very fabric of your being on a subatomic level, want to continue and flourish. Your lungs are constantly refilling themselves without you even thinking about it. Blueprints of instinct and survival are built into you in an array of skeletal schematics passed down through thousands of years.

The very DNA engines and mechanisms of your body mirror that of the cosmos in their design. We’re forged from the furnace of a dying star. We’re ripped from oblivion and sculpted through an uncountable number of forces and physics until we’re here.

And, that process means something and wants to continue. So finding reason in moments of complete despair and nothingness is an inherent biological reaction.

I don’t believe everything happens for a reason, but we can be the reason why things keep happening.

That doesn’t mean giving up, the pain of living, and suicide aren’t real things we will deal with. I have been suicidal before. I write about it often. I got through it. That doesn’t mean I would be able to survive the most horrendous of hardships. I’m just saying that perhaps the most fundamental part of being human, the biological energy that powers your meat sack of a hide, wants to keep going.

Life, or living, finds reasons, even when the heart and mind cannot.

Visit me at the Curious Crow Summer Bazaar 7/26

My second to last event of the summer is here. Now that CONvergence is done, I’ll be heading towards Circle Pines and the Curious Crow for their summer bazaar and vendor market.

What is the Curious Crow? Well, it is an awesome gaming store and event space in the north loop of the Twin Cities.

You can learn about the Curious Crow right here

As the MIGHTY GRAPHIC dictates, this takes place on Sunday the 26th from 12 – 5 pm.

They have a bunch of cool stuff to look at from a geekdom perspective at this store. Games, books, board games, Pokémon cards, and a variety of art. Plus, they have a variety of other vendors, beers, and foods to pick from.

This is my first time at this event. I had an amazing time at the book fair in the spring. They have tasty drinks for sale during the event as well. Also a crepe food truck. I’ll be selling my books and be ready to talk about monsters.

Hope to see you there!

Visit me at the Curious Crow Summer Bazaar 7/26

My second to last event of the summer is here. Now that CONvergence is done, I’ll be heading towards Circle Pines and the Curious Crow for their summer bazaar and vendor market.

What is the Curious Crow? Well, it is an awesome gaming store and event space in the north loop of the Twin Cities.

You can learn about the Curious Crow right here

As the MIGHTY GRAPHIC dictates, this takes place on Sunday the 26th from 12 – 5 pm.

They have a bunch of cool stuff to look at from a geekdom perspective at this store. Games, books, board games, Pokémon cards, and a variety of art. Plus, they have a variety of other vendors, beers, and foods to pick from.

This is my first time at this event. I had an amazing time at the book fair in the spring. They have tasty drinks for sale during the event as well. Also a crepe food truck. I’ll be selling my books and be ready to talk about monsters.

Hope to see you there!

Free Kindle Book: Short Story Collection of Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction

This week on my free book giveaway it is my short story collection Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere. This is a recently updated, revised, and rereleased. There are a variety of genres, monsters, and parallel emotions in this collection. Each story stands on its own.

Free today through Sunday on the Kindle. Get. It. Now. Description below:

An ancient werewolf laments his annual, blood-soaked pilgrimage. A doll comes to life only when your fear gives it motivation. Empty spaces are a feeding ground for an ancient monster. A mother dragon will fight through anything for her stolen future. After a random tragedy at the hands of a flying nightmare, a sky pirate visits a haunted grave. A demon followed across a continent, pauses for a very human vanity. Robots in an apocalyptic hellscape need a purpose, even if there is no one to witness it. Mysterious gravestones and highways twist the ordinary into hells for a pair of friends and family. A young woman laments her true, mystical identity in the waves of a stormy sea.

Hit it HERE to get Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere for FREE on Kindle

Free Kindle Book: Short Story Collection of Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction

This week on my free book giveaway it is my short story collection Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere. This is a recently updated, revised, and rereleased. There are a variety of genres, monsters, and parallel emotions in this collection. Each story stands on its own.

Free today through Sunday on the Kindle. Get. It. Now. Description below:

An ancient werewolf laments his annual, blood-soaked pilgrimage. A doll comes to life only when your fear gives it motivation. Empty spaces are a feeding ground for an ancient monster. A mother dragon will fight through anything for her stolen future. After a random tragedy at the hands of a flying nightmare, a sky pirate visits a haunted grave. A demon followed across a continent, pauses for a very human vanity. Robots in an apocalyptic hellscape need a purpose, even if there is no one to witness it. Mysterious gravestones and highways twist the ordinary into hells for a pair of friends and family. A young woman laments her true, mystical identity in the waves of a stormy sea.

Hit it HERE to get Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere for FREE on Kindle

That Old Neighborhood: A Poem About Memory, Change, and Nostalgia

The stoplight, tall and ivy-wrapped
beside the solemn intersection
pierced with headlight spears and glitter.
The nearby overpass a floating slab
marked by howling trucks we’d
dream of buying when we got older.

Further up by Joe’s house,
the streetlight dangled an orange crown
perfect for us to wrestle, throw baseballs
yell at semis, and occasionally talk
as if nobody were listening
when only our dreams were there to speak.

Down the block was the strip mall,
a half-empty brown-brick mushroom where
Mario’s Movies was a red-carpet beacon
of games, videos, stale candy, and pornography.
We’d sneak glances of that skin
before any of us knew how it felt.

Across Highway 10 a few miles west
our high school field with rattling bleachers,
sweaty football lights, and ribbons of moth clouds.
Prematurely bald Collin would heckle
the visiting cheerleaders who yelled back:
“You’re too old-looking to be in high school.”

Now, two decades done and dead,
I’m alone and visiting again.
There is less and less
magic to those memories
haunting the same dark nights.
Still, I walk these streets

to feel something.

That Old Neighborhood: A Poem About Memory, Change, and Nostalgia

The stoplight, tall and ivy-wrapped
beside the solemn intersection
pierced with headlight spears and glitter.
The nearby overpass a floating slab
marked by howling trucks we’d
dream of buying when we got older.

Further up by Joe’s house,
the streetlight dangled an orange crown
perfect for us to wrestle, throw baseballs
yell at semis, and occasionally talk
as if nobody were listening
when only our dreams were there to speak.

Down the block was the strip mall,
a half-empty brown-brick mushroom where
Mario’s Movies was a red-carpet beacon
of games, videos, stale candy, and pornography.
We’d sneak glances of that skin
before any of us knew how it felt.

Across Highway 10 a few miles west
our high school field with rattling bleachers,
sweaty football lights, and ribbons of moth clouds.
Prematurely bald Collin would heckle
the visiting cheerleaders who yelled back:
“You’re too old-looking to be in high school.”

Now, two decades done and dead,
I’m alone and visiting again.
There is less and less
magic to those memories
haunting the same dark nights.
Still, I walk these streets

to feel something.

How Much Will Your Life be Worth Before it is Born?

I wanted to go with floating cars, cities built on clouds, and random zeppelins cruising over jet-black downtowns with endless rain like in Bladerunner. I couldn’t fully commit to that idea since I worked at a bank for many years and people fought debit cards and online banking tooth and nail.

You’d be surprised how much the varying generations distrust technology.

Anyways, it might have been more wholesome to go with these classic objects of science fiction versus what I think might be a realistic and ghastly concept to be executed into our future social strata.

Instead of going with a physical piece of technology, I’ve decided to go with an answer that is a hybrid of social engineering and sociological equations.

At some point, in the shadow of all this AI weirdness and predicative theory with analytics, we’ll eventually measure potential human life for how it can be contributed to the economy. We’ll become so obsessed with numbers, affordability, economic contributions, and status, that we’ll actually measure how much certain potential or unborn human beings in specific situations can contribute economically, and those will be given resources.

I mean this already happens across world economies, but I think there might actually be a specific equation, AI, or tool that goes a step further, and attempts to be “predictive” like the pre-cogs in Minority Report. I guess I’m thinking that it would be something like a certain group or demographic receive the power of fertility, or healthy living standards based on what their future offspring might contribute to the economy.

Again, this is already happening in more obscure ways, but I think technology we’ll carry the analytics into an actual social device.

Data is outrunning human understanding, and I have no doubt we’ll fall for various magic bullets that will guarantee success or predict population growth and control. Almost like a sort of shadowy, AI Eugenics taking place. Only it’ll have a more economic edge, and be part of some institution.

You want to have children? Let us put this into an equation and see what kind of economic contribution you will create. Okay, it isn’t much, so your access to health care and fertility help will be reduced. You’re ability to have a profitable future is limited, so why invest resources.

Maybe it’ll become a gambling ring? Basically a stock market for population growth. A Sibyl system for reproduction (please watch the anime Psycho Pass).

All of that “fun” stuff.

I know that’s a vague, ominous, and very dark answer to this question, but yeah, it is a casual blog post with a Daily Writing Prompt.

Time to get nuts.

How Much Will Your Life be Worth Before it is Born?

I wanted to go with floating cars, cities built on clouds, and random zeppelins cruising over jet-black downtowns with endless rain like in Bladerunner. I couldn’t fully commit to that idea since I worked at a bank for many years and people fought debit cards and online banking tooth and nail.

You’d be surprised how much the varying generations distrust technology.

Anyways, it might have been more wholesome to go with these classic objects of science fiction versus what I think might be a realistic and ghastly concept to be executed into our future social strata.

Instead of going with a physical piece of technology, I’ve decided to go with an answer that is a hybrid of social engineering and sociological equations.

At some point, in the shadow of all this AI weirdness and predicative theory with analytics, we’ll eventually measure potential human life for how it can be contributed to the economy. We’ll become so obsessed with numbers, affordability, economic contributions, and status, that we’ll actually measure how much certain potential or unborn human beings in specific situations can contribute economically, and those will be given resources.

I mean this already happens across world economies, but I think there might actually be a specific equation, AI, or tool that goes a step further, and attempts to be “predictive” like the pre-cogs in Minority Report. I guess I’m thinking that it would be something like a certain group or demographic receive the power of fertility, or healthy living standards based on what their future offspring might contribute to the economy.

Again, this is already happening in more obscure ways, but I think technology we’ll carry the analytics into an actual social device.

Data is outrunning human understanding, and I have no doubt we’ll fall for various magic bullets that will guarantee success or predict population growth and control. Almost like a sort of shadowy, AI Eugenics taking place. Only it’ll have a more economic edge, and be part of some institution.

You want to have children? Let us put this into an equation and see what kind of economic contribution you will create. Okay, it isn’t much, so your access to health care and fertility help will be reduced. You’re ability to have a profitable future is limited, so why invest resources.

Maybe it’ll become a gambling ring? Basically a stock market for population growth. A Sibyl system for reproduction (please watch the anime Psycho Pass).

All of that “fun” stuff.

I know that’s a vague, ominous, and very dark answer to this question, but yeah, it is a casual blog post with a Daily Writing Prompt.

Time to get nuts.

The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 — Apocalyptic Horror Free on the Kindle

For this week, the second book in my popular apocalyptic horror series The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 is free on the Kindle.

The book is available for the cheap price of NOTHING, today through Sunday.

Out of the whole series, this is the most horror-max book. It is not for the faint of heart. The monsters really push it. Well worth the read. Freshly revised and updated. Enjoy. More details below:

“Monsters, monsters, everywhere.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011. All errors have been left intact in the effort to preserve historical authenticity. If you have any information about these diaries, please contact your closest bureau to speak to a representative.

Click here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 for FREE

The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 — Apocalyptic Horror Free on the Kindle

For this week, the second book in my popular apocalyptic horror series The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 is free on the Kindle.

The book is available for the cheap price of NOTHING, today through Sunday.

Out of the whole series, this is the most horror-max book. It is not for the faint of heart. The monsters really push it. Well worth the read. Freshly revised and updated. Enjoy. More details below:

“Monsters, monsters, everywhere.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011. All errors have been left intact in the effort to preserve historical authenticity. If you have any information about these diaries, please contact your closest bureau to speak to a representative.

Click here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 for FREE

The Tail of the Comet: A Poem About Emotions, Trauma, and the Weight We Carry

I’m pulled, tugged, ripped,
chained to feeling,
in its rawest form,
a perpetual gravity of emotion.
Instinct, sadness, happiness,
the perfect storm, never-ending.
I wish it would be silent,
an old, ivy-heavy graveyard at midnight.

My therapist gave it many titles,
depression, anxiety, trauma, PTSD.
Rage and love toward everyone and everything,
from empty streetlights to my beautiful sons.
It was failed lovers, friends,
family, jobs, and dreams.
The core of my being was
a black hole that refused to stand still.

I had always known something
was living inside of me.
So when emotions did come ringing,
haunted bells on some walking watchtower,
with phantoms following in marmalade glows.
The whole of this demon land
would empty,
overwhelming me.

She asks me to describe
how it feels knowing I’m like this.
I tell her I’m the pike
forever pulled by the hook,
or the dark matter tether of the endlessly hurtling meteor.
And that I feel,
and that I know,
the stillness of the night

will always be a fiction.

The Tail of the Comet: A Poem About Emotions, Trauma, and the Weight We Carry

I’m pulled, tugged, ripped,
chained to feeling,
in its rawest form,
a perpetual gravity of emotion.
Instinct, sadness, happiness,
the perfect storm, never-ending.
I wish it would be silent,
an old, ivy-heavy graveyard at midnight.

My therapist gave it many titles,
depression, anxiety, trauma, PTSD.
Rage and love toward everyone and everything,
from empty streetlights to my beautiful sons.
It was failed lovers, friends,
family, jobs, and dreams.
The core of my being was
a black hole that refused to stand still.

I had always known something
was living inside of me.
So when emotions did come ringing,
haunted bells on some walking watchtower,
with phantoms following in marmalade glows.
The whole of this demon land
would empty,
overwhelming me.

She asks me to describe
how it feels knowing I’m like this.
I tell her I’m the pike
forever pulled by the hook,
or the dark matter tether of the endlessly hurtling meteor.
And that I feel,
and that I know,
the stillness of the night

will always be a fiction.

I Can’t Change the Sunlight: A Poem About Depression, Memory, and Sunlight

First, the beams between dust,
highlighting particles dancing
in my parents’ basement.
Chocolate carpet above an eyebrow window
where we, old friends and lovers,
would swap dreams and desires
until you tearfully realized
I couldn’t do anything
but wrestle with my depression.

Then, rays of it glittering and jeweled
during our honeymoon
in an emerald lagoon,
with tropic tips and bows of sand
being plucked by Key Largo waves.
That sediment could never be a castle.
It was too broken, fragmented, coarse,
and fragile to form any support.
Just like us.

Next came morning light slanting
through the bay window over the couch,
a theater seat for our fights,
screaming, throwing, thrashing,
every detail of my unending sadness.
You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
I wipe them away, my trauma baptism.
I have an endless supply.

That stardust anchor,
falling through time and space,
cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
honing our existence, growing our cells,
is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
It will not end me. I am always undead.
Worse, it reminds me honestly
that this daylight trigger
will always be there

as long as I am.

I Can’t Change the Sunlight: A Poem About Depression, Memory, and Sunlight

First, the beams between dust,
highlighting particles dancing
in my parents’ basement.
Chocolate carpet above an eyebrow window
where we, old friends and lovers,
would swap dreams and desires
until you tearfully realized
I couldn’t do anything
but wrestle with my depression.

Then, rays of it glittering and jeweled
during our honeymoon
in an emerald lagoon,
with tropic tips and bows of sand
being plucked by Key Largo waves.
That sediment could never be a castle.
It was too broken, fragmented, coarse,
and fragile to form any support.
Just like us.

Next came morning light slanting
through the bay window over the couch,
a theater seat for our fights,
screaming, throwing, thrashing,
every detail of my unending sadness.
You, my son, are on my lap, asleep, an infant.
I’m crying, and the tears sting your forehead.
I wipe them away, my trauma baptism.
I have an endless supply.

That stardust anchor,
falling through time and space,
cracking the earth’s atmosphere,
honing our existence, growing our cells,
is a cosmic stake piercing my heart.
It will not end me. I am always undead.
Worse, it reminds me honestly
that this daylight trigger
will always be there

as long as I am.

Visit me at CONvergence 2026

Okay, well, that year passed quickly. Back at CONvergence 2026. Yeah, that was insanely fast. I’ll be back in the vending room selling my books and talking monsters.

If you haven’t been to CONvergence, it is pretty much an amazing convention. I love it dearly. Been selling books and attending for many years now. It is a great celebration of diversity and geekdom. I adore it.

You can learn more about it right here

I’m on one panel this year. The Year in Anime. It is on Friday at 2:00 pm in the Hyatt 2 Greenway. I’ll be in cosplay. Knuckle Buster from my Hero Academia Vigilantes. I’m excited to talk about all my anime choices from this last year. Also, I’ll be doing Expedition 33 cosplay on Saturday. I love that game.

Otherwise I’ll be vending all weekend selling my books. Cannot wait. I love talking about this event. They have day passes as well. Enjoy.

Again, you can learn more about CONvergence 2026 right here

Visit me at CONvergence 2026

Okay, well, that year passed quickly. Back at CONvergence 2026. Yeah, that was insanely fast. I’ll be back in the vending room selling my books and talking monsters.

If you haven’t been to CONvergence, it is pretty much an amazing convention. I love it dearly. Been selling books and attending for many years now. It is a great celebration of diversity and geekdom. I adore it.

You can learn more about it right here

I’m on one panel this year. The Year in Anime. It is on Friday at 2:00 pm in the Hyatt 2 Greenway. I’ll be in cosplay. Knuckle Buster from my Hero Academia Vigilantes. I’m excited to talk about all my anime choices from this last year. Also, I’ll be doing Expedition 33 cosplay on Saturday. I love that game.

Otherwise I’ll be vending all weekend selling my books. Cannot wait. I love talking about this event. They have day passes as well. Enjoy.

Again, you can learn more about CONvergence 2026 right here

Free Book Day: The Greenland Diaries Days 1 – 100

Hello all, I’m back with a free Kindle book giveaway to gear up for CONvergence 2026, which I’ll be attending in just a few days.

I’m offering my most popular work, and the gateway to my apocalyptic horror series, the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE on the Kindle for the next three days.

This book has been revised, restructured, and rebuilt into the most effective, found journal horror experience you can imagine. The monsters are unforgettable. Description and link below:

“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.

1. Do not move when the Drum sounds
2. Do not trust the Streetlights
3. Do not look in the mirrors

Hit it here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE

Free Book Day: The Greenland Diaries Days 1 – 100

Hello all, I’m back with a free Kindle book giveaway to gear up for CONvergence 2026, which I’ll be attending in just a few days.

I’m offering my most popular work, and the gateway to my apocalyptic horror series, the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE on the Kindle for the next three days.

This book has been revised, restructured, and rebuilt into the most effective, found journal horror experience you can imagine. The monsters are unforgettable. Description and link below:

“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.

1. Do not move when the Drum sounds
2. Do not trust the Streetlights
3. Do not look in the mirrors

Hit it here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE

Vitamin “No”

Ugh, when I as younger I had very little emotional discipline and regulation. This made me basically say “yes” to so many things I should have said “no” to. I was so consumed with wanting to fit in or be included, it completely warped my sense of “yes” or “no.”

Everyone has different experiences, but wow, did my 20’s suck. I chased quick fixes of happiness, whether it was jobs, media, materials, food, sex, or people. I was constantly trying to fill a void of not being enough, or at least feeling that way. I think the independence I received in my 20’s allowed my body to feel the trauma of what a relatively emotionally rough childhood had been for me, and instead of feeling that pain I distracted myself by saying yes to way too many things.

I wasn’t prepared for that awakening, so I drowned myself. I eventually got help via DBT skills class and therapy in my 30’s. It is a battle each day.

Now, older, the hallowed word “no” has become far more popular in my identity vernacular. I don’t cage and prevent myself from trying new things, I just know and enjoy my limits as a person a little bit more.

Having boundaries, protecting my physical and mental health, and keeping toxic people in a specific territory, has made my life infinitely more bearable. When the “yes” comes naturally it feels good, but it is the “no” where you actually accept your identity.

Again, I don’t say it to everything. I have a bit of an internal rubric, three strikes policy with stuff. There is complexity to every situation. New points-of-view, diversity, and learning has a different interaction with me. Again, every person and situation is different.

I just feel a bit better saying “no” and I wish I could send that ability back to my younger self. That confidence is a product of experience sadly. I was afraid to say it, but I wish I had. It hurt me. It hurt people. I’m certainly not perfect at it, and I continue to make mistakes and try to learn from them.

I guess I’m just not as afraid to say it anymore. I don’t love the word “no” but I love that I’m understanding what it means when I use it, or even when others use it. It is a very enlightening word.

Vitamin “No”

Ugh, when I as younger I had very little emotional discipline and regulation. This made me basically say “yes” to so many things I should have said “no” to. I was so consumed with wanting to fit in or be included, it completely warped my sense of “yes” or “no.”

Everyone has different experiences, but wow, did my 20’s suck. I chased quick fixes of happiness, whether it was jobs, media, materials, food, sex, or people. I was constantly trying to fill a void of not being enough, or at least feeling that way. I think the independence I received in my 20’s allowed my body to feel the trauma of what a relatively emotionally rough childhood had been for me, and instead of feeling that pain I distracted myself by saying yes to way too many things.

I wasn’t prepared for that awakening, so I drowned myself. I eventually got help via DBT skills class and therapy in my 30’s. It is a battle each day.

Now, older, the hallowed word “no” has become far more popular in my identity vernacular. I don’t cage and prevent myself from trying new things, I just know and enjoy my limits as a person a little bit more.

Having boundaries, protecting my physical and mental health, and keeping toxic people in a specific territory, has made my life infinitely more bearable. When the “yes” comes naturally it feels good, but it is the “no” where you actually accept your identity.

Again, I don’t say it to everything. I have a bit of an internal rubric, three strikes policy with stuff. There is complexity to every situation. New points-of-view, diversity, and learning has a different interaction with me. Again, every person and situation is different.

I just feel a bit better saying “no” and I wish I could send that ability back to my younger self. That confidence is a product of experience sadly. I was afraid to say it, but I wish I had. It hurt me. It hurt people. I’m certainly not perfect at it, and I continue to make mistakes and try to learn from them.

I guess I’m just not as afraid to say it anymore. I don’t love the word “no” but I love that I’m understanding what it means when I use it, or even when others use it. It is a very enlightening word.

The Stars — A New Poem

Believe me, these stars
were meant for you
and not for me.

They’re below the ceiling edge
staring at me.
A plastic, neon-star echo
sung from a leftover child’s bedroom.
The previous family was surely happy,
connected, and complete.
The type with snug bedtime stories,
and fresh snow on Christmas.

I only notice them at night,
when my lights are out,
and the dark is silk, clay, and mud.
They indigo-spike the gloom
in a glowing, five-point crown
frowning at me like muted suns.
I’m remembering poignantly
all those promises we couldn’t keep.

My roommate was too short to scalp
all those comets free
unhooked from their night sky of
cheap glue and white sheetrock.
She didn’t know they’d be blackhole
reminders of my marriage and family.
There was never a complete constellation
to guide us towards a normal home.

I do wish, my sons,
you had gotten the same roof,
but instead you have two houses,
bedrooms, holidays, separate everything.
An alternating, day-of-the-week purgatory
of endless in-between.
I couldn’t give it to you,
no matter how much I tried.

Yet, please believe me when I say,
these stars were meant for you
and not for me.

The Stars — A New Poem

Believe me, these stars
were meant for you
and not for me.

They’re below the ceiling edge
staring at me.
A plastic, neon-star echo
sung from a leftover child’s bedroom.
The previous family was surely happy,
connected, and complete.
The type with snug bedtime stories,
and fresh snow on Christmas.

I only notice them at night,
when my lights are out,
and the dark is silk, clay, and mud.
They indigo-spike the gloom
in a glowing, five-point crown
frowning at me like muted suns.
I’m remembering poignantly
all those promises we couldn’t keep.

My roommate was too short to scalp
all those comets free
unhooked from their night sky of
cheap glue and white sheetrock.
She didn’t know they’d be blackhole
reminders of my marriage and family.
There was never a complete constellation
to guide us towards a normal home.

I do wish, my sons,
you had gotten the same roof,
but instead you have two houses,
bedrooms, holidays, separate everything.
An alternating, day-of-the-week purgatory
of endless in-between.
I couldn’t give it to you,
no matter how much I tried.

Yet, please believe me when I say,
these stars were meant for you
and not for me.

Hold on to the Weird

Just hold on to it.

The weird can be slippery. An eel fresh out of a burrow of mud. A game controller after a buddy used it after a long game of Goldeneye on the N64. You knew how use remote mines as projectiles and killed him from a distance.

The world will try and grind it out of you. And, FYI, I’m not talking about toxic weird, the kind that hurts people, but the weird that celebrates the goofiness of your personality. Wearing fun socks. Binge watching Nickelodeon Cartoons from the glory of the ’90s. An obsession with bigfoot that leads to horror/fan fiction stories about a traveling circus that has bigfoot attend a performance and he gets hired on staff. Only bigfoot is too much of a diva and has to start his own one “man” show. This is disastrous because it turns out bigfoot needed collaboration to express his peak creativity.

When we’re kids, and I see this with my sons, we have so many unique interests, and we’re completely unabashed and enthusiastic about them. A few bullies at school, an unsupportive parent, a judgmental teacher, and poof. Those interests get fed into the meat grinder, and pretty soon you’re afraid to stand out in case it attracts unwanted attention. You force yourself to like certain things just to get attention.

It is so odd, because as adults most of us want some sort of attention. We want people to know us, and we hide ourselves because we’re shown vulnerability is punished by society at a young age. Leftover echoes from the conformity of the baby boomer generation. Loneliness is an epidemic. I think that is a legitimate concern for people of all backgrounds. However, we need to stop getting frightened or annoyed by the interests of those around us, and get a little bit more curious.

So yeah, keep collecting Pokémon cards, sketching comics, or reading romantic fantasy novels.

Don’t let people dilute your weird.

Hold on to the Weird

Just hold on to it.

The weird can be slippery. An eel fresh out of a burrow of mud. A game controller after a buddy used it after a long game of Goldeneye on the N64. You knew how use remote mines as projectiles and killed him from a distance.

The world will try and grind it out of you. And, FYI, I’m not talking about toxic weird, the kind that hurts people, but the weird that celebrates the goofiness of your personality. Wearing fun socks. Binge watching Nickelodeon Cartoons from the glory of the ’90s. An obsession with bigfoot that leads to horror/fan fiction stories about a traveling circus that has bigfoot attend a performance and he gets hired on staff. Only bigfoot is too much of a diva and has to start his own one “man” show. This is disastrous because it turns out bigfoot needed collaboration to express his peak creativity.

When we’re kids, and I see this with my sons, we have so many unique interests, and we’re completely unabashed and enthusiastic about them. A few bullies at school, an unsupportive parent, a judgmental teacher, and poof. Those interests get fed into the meat grinder, and pretty soon you’re afraid to stand out in case it attracts unwanted attention. You force yourself to like certain things just to get attention.

It is so odd, because as adults most of us want some sort of attention. We want people to know us, and we hide ourselves because we’re shown vulnerability is punished by society at a young age. Leftover echoes from the conformity of the baby boomer generation. Loneliness is an epidemic. I think that is a legitimate concern for people of all backgrounds. However, we need to stop getting frightened or annoyed by the interests of those around us, and get a little bit more curious.

So yeah, keep collecting Pokémon cards, sketching comics, or reading romantic fantasy novels.

Don’t let people dilute your weird.

Writing Update 6/17/26

• Okay, back with a bit of a writing update for the month of June. Bunch of random stuff to share with you. No real rhyme or reason to it. Busy month for life events and such.
• Had a fantastic SpringCon here in the Twin Cities. Almost sold out of the first book in the Greenland Diaries, had just my display copy leftover. First time since 2021 that I attended the MCBA’s annual convention and comic show at the State Fair grounds here in Minnesota. I had a great time selling books, talking to people about writing, and commiserating with so many talented creators. The MCBA does a fantastic job, like always, hosting this event. There were comic book heavyweights there like Dan Jurgens and Gordon Purcell. There were a few old friends of mine as well. Since I’ve started doing conventions 13 years ago, the amount of authors who have come and gone from these events is astounding. I’m starting to think I have a dangerous level of stubbornness inside of me. FallCon is on the horizon. You can learn more FallCon right here. All the MCBA events are fantastic.
• Next event for me is CONvergence in July. You can learn more about that event right here. I’ll only be on one panel this year titled “The Year in Anime.” I signed up for more, but they seemed to have cancelled them. I’ll be in the dealer room all weekend though, selling books and whatnot. More details forthcoming. Excited to be a part of it.
• I had a bunch of poems get published in literary magazines the last few months. I have updated my publications page, and it feels really good. Need to keep going, but feels nice to take a deep breath and see my achievements. You can find my revised publications list right here.
• Pausing on any new self-published projects for the next few years. I’m still writing them, but letting time catch-up with the amount of material I’ve released. No point in releasing constant sequels if nobody has read the first books, or rushing stories out with lower quality standards. I have learned my lesson from that before. Having done countless revisions to all my Greenland Diaries books, Beware the Ills, and Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere, well, I don’t want to keep backtracking about stuff.
• Funny thing about writing is that nothing is ever actually done. You will end up revising and redoing your stories over and over again, even if they’ve been published. Updated editions, revisions, all that stuff. In fact, I have revised ALL my books countless times. Readers that bought the initial editions would probably find the revised ones completely different.
• Media has been all over the place for me. Playing through Saros, which is a spiritual sequel to Returnal. So far I absolutely love the game. Story is not as good as Returnal, but its easer and has better inventory options. Reading “Angel Down” which just won the Pulitzer. Fantastic novel. Listening to “Dungeon Crawler Carl” and loving it. Also, enjoying Anne Sexton’s poetry still, just have a thousand poems or so to get through. Wife and I are watching Psycho Pass, which is utterly incredible. Before that for anime we did Kaiju Number 8, and finished My Hero. So. Much. Media. Also, Obsession was a fantastic horror film.
• Alrighty, that’s all I got for now. Currently my son is recovering from hopefully his final eye surgery. Poor kid has been through it. Beware the Ills and the Greenland Diaries are running to their entirety here on my blog. When Beware the Ills is done, well, something else will fill that monstrous void. Thank you all for continuing to read my work and for supporting me.

Writing Update 6/17/26

• Okay, back with a bit of a writing update for the month of June. Bunch of random stuff to share with you. No real rhyme or reason to it. Busy month for life events and such.
• Had a fantastic SpringCon here in the Twin Cities. Almost sold out of the first book in the Greenland Diaries, had just my display copy leftover. First time since 2021 that I attended the MCBA’s annual convention and comic show at the State Fair grounds here in Minnesota. I had a great time selling books, talking to people about writing, and commiserating with so many talented creators. The MCBA does a fantastic job, like always, hosting this event. There were comic book heavyweights there like Dan Jurgens and Gordon Purcell. There were a few old friends of mine as well. Since I’ve started doing conventions 13 years ago, the amount of authors who have come and gone from these events is astounding. I’m starting to think I have a dangerous level of stubbornness inside of me. FallCon is on the horizon. You can learn more FallCon right here. All the MCBA events are fantastic.
• Next event for me is CONvergence in July. You can learn more about that event right here. I’ll only be on one panel this year titled “The Year in Anime.” I signed up for more, but they seemed to have cancelled them. I’ll be in the dealer room all weekend though, selling books and whatnot. More details forthcoming. Excited to be a part of it.
• I had a bunch of poems get published in literary magazines the last few months. I have updated my publications page, and it feels really good. Need to keep going, but feels nice to take a deep breath and see my achievements. You can find my revised publications list right here.
• Pausing on any new self-published projects for the next few years. I’m still writing them, but letting time catch-up with the amount of material I’ve released. No point in releasing constant sequels if nobody has read the first books, or rushing stories out with lower quality standards. I have learned my lesson from that before. Having done countless revisions to all my Greenland Diaries books, Beware the Ills, and Monsters, Monsters, Everywhere, well, I don’t want to keep backtracking about stuff.
• Funny thing about writing is that nothing is ever actually done. You will end up revising and redoing your stories over and over again, even if they’ve been published. Updated editions, revisions, all that stuff. In fact, I have revised ALL my books countless times. Readers that bought the initial editions would probably find the revised ones completely different.
• Media has been all over the place for me. Playing through Saros, which is a spiritual sequel to Returnal. So far I absolutely love the game. Story is not as good as Returnal, but its easer and has better inventory options. Reading “Angel Down” which just won the Pulitzer. Fantastic novel. Listening to “Dungeon Crawler Carl” and loving it. Also, enjoying Anne Sexton’s poetry still, just have a thousand poems or so to get through. Wife and I are watching Psycho Pass, which is utterly incredible. Before that for anime we did Kaiju Number 8, and finished My Hero. So. Much. Media. Also, Obsession was a fantastic horror film.
• Alrighty, that’s all I got for now. Currently my son is recovering from hopefully his final eye surgery. Poor kid has been through it. Beware the Ills and the Greenland Diaries are running to their entirety here on my blog. When Beware the Ills is done, well, something else will fill that monstrous void. Thank you all for continuing to read my work and for supporting me.

Revisiting my post “World Map” where I talk about JRPG maps

@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com

As above, I wrote a blog post last year about the world maps I had leftover from Secret of Mana and Chrono Trigger. I grew up in the heyday of JRPG’s on the Super Nintendo. They had profound effects on me as a person and writer.

If gaming has led to your artistic identity and inspiration, then read my post. You can’t shortchange what inspires you.

Revisiting my post “World Map” where I talk about JRPG maps

@patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com

As above, I wrote a blog post last year about the world maps I had leftover from Secret of Mana and Chrono Trigger. I grew up in the heyday of JRPG’s on the Super Nintendo. They had profound effects on me as a person and writer.

If gaming has led to your artistic identity and inspiration, then read my post. You can’t shortchange what inspires you.

Read my Poem “Extra Skin” Published by the Mourning Paper

My poem “Extra Skin” was published by the awesome literary magazine the Mourning Paper.

This poem is about a interdimensional entity living in a warehouse. The monster is continuously stalking around the shelves and corridors, looking for people to come travelling through. When this happens, the creature throws its skin at them in an effort to understand itself.

You can read “Extra Skin” right here

My sons initially gave me the idea for this poem. They are obsessed with the Back Rooms, and its various lore, and they were talking to me about a creature that likes to give out its skin. I took the concept for myself and put my own spin on it.

I’m thoroughly honored to have my poem published by this excellent literary establishment.

The Mourning Paper is an excellent magazine. I highly suggest not just reading my work, but exploring the publication thoroughly. The many excellent writers and artists deserve your time and attention.

Hit it here to read more of the Mourning Paper.

Happy reading!

Read my Poem “Extra Skin” Published by the Mourning Paper

My poem “Extra Skin” was published by the awesome literary magazine the Mourning Paper.

This poem is about a interdimensional entity living in a warehouse. The monster is continuously stalking around the shelves and corridors, looking for people to come travelling through. When this happens, the creature throws its skin at them in an effort to understand itself.

You can read “Extra Skin” right here

My sons initially gave me the idea for this poem. They are obsessed with the Back Rooms, and its various lore, and they were talking to me about a creature that likes to give out its skin. I took the concept for myself and put my own spin on it.

I’m thoroughly honored to have my poem published by this excellent literary establishment.

The Mourning Paper is an excellent magazine. I highly suggest not just reading my work, but exploring the publication thoroughly. The many excellent writers and artists deserve your time and attention.

Hit it here to read more of the Mourning Paper.

Happy reading!

Read my Poem “Stay the Same” Published by Malefica Press

Happy to have my poem “Stay the Same” published by the literary magazine Malefica Press.

Malefica Press publishes all things horror. They have a great catalogue of content, and I’m honored to be a part of it. What is really fun about this publication is they included an illustration with it as well. It fits the theme of my poem perfectly.

The poem I wrote “Stay the Same” is about a haunted scarecrow that tries to be different, and not fulfill its dark purpose. I love exploring complexity with monsters, it both therapeutic and interesting to me as writer. When those two creative forces coincide, lots of creation happens. The crows that spend their time around this scarecrow have some interest in whether he can continue this murderous journey he’s been on. They’re a vested party.

You can read “Stay the Same” right here.

I will continue to state, that you should not just read my poem, but also checkout the various material from Malefica Press. It is an incredible lit magazine, and I want to continue to support it. They have a ridiculous amount of excellent content to read for free. Please jump into that dark rabbit hole. You can find them right here.

Thank you for reading my work, and have an excellent day!

Read my Poem “Stay the Same” Published by Malefica Press

Happy to have my poem “Stay the Same” published by the literary magazine Malefica Press.

Malefica Press publishes all things horror. They have a great catalogue of content, and I’m honored to be a part of it. What is really fun about this publication is they included an illustration with it as well. It fits the theme of my poem perfectly.

The poem I wrote “Stay the Same” is about a haunted scarecrow that tries to be different, and not fulfill its dark purpose. I love exploring complexity with monsters, it both therapeutic and interesting to me as writer. When those two creative forces coincide, lots of creation happens. The crows that spend their time around this scarecrow have some interest in whether he can continue this murderous journey he’s been on. They’re a vested party.

You can read “Stay the Same” right here.

I will continue to state, that you should not just read my poem, but also checkout the various material from Malefica Press. It is an incredible lit magazine, and I want to continue to support it. They have a ridiculous amount of excellent content to read for free. Please jump into that dark rabbit hole. You can find them right here.

Thank you for reading my work, and have an excellent day!

Read my Poem “Sit Down” Published by the Mourning Paper

I recently had my poem “Sit Down” published by the Mourning Paper.

They are a gothic, dark literary magazine that releases a variety of work from various writers. They have lifestyle, literature, and poetry, which is where I factor into this equation.

The poem that was published was called “Sit Down” and it is most certainly a horror poem. It is about a little girl ghost who imprisons families at a dinner table inside the house she used to live in. Recently, I’ve been exploring the concept of ghosts and the dead having motivation for their hauntings. I have been trying to experiment with the human reasons these nonhuman entities might have. I just never liked the idea of ghosts being mindless or emotionless plot devices in media.

You can read “Sit Down” on the Mourning Paper right here.

As always, with these posts about publications I highly suggest you read the rest of the material this fine publication has to offer. I don’t want to just promote these places because they published me or support literary horror. Too many literary magazines like the Mourning Paper are undervalued, and I don’t want them to vanish into obscurity. As I submit my work to many different lit magazines I see them vanishing into nothingness fairly often.

So please explore and support the Mourning Paper here.

Thank you for reading my work and have an amazing day!

Read my Poem “Sit Down” Published by the Mourning Paper

I recently had my poem “Sit Down” published by the Mourning Paper.

They are a gothic, dark literary magazine that releases a variety of work from various writers. They have lifestyle, literature, and poetry, which is where I factor into this equation.

The poem that was published was called “Sit Down” and it is most certainly a horror poem. It is about a little girl ghost who imprisons families at a dinner table inside the house she used to live in. Recently, I’ve been exploring the concept of ghosts and the dead having motivation for their hauntings. I have been trying to experiment with the human reasons these nonhuman entities might have. I just never liked the idea of ghosts being mindless or emotionless plot devices in media.

You can read “Sit Down” on the Mourning Paper right here.

As always, with these posts about publications I highly suggest you read the rest of the material this fine publication has to offer. I don’t want to just promote these places because they published me or support literary horror. Too many literary magazines like the Mourning Paper are undervalued, and I don’t want them to vanish into obscurity. As I submit my work to many different lit magazines I see them vanishing into nothingness fairly often.

So please explore and support the Mourning Paper here.

Thank you for reading my work and have an amazing day!

Read my Poem “The Ordinary” at Altered Reality Magazine

One more poem to share on these Wednesdays. The final one in that trio of publications. Super grateful to Altered Reality Magazine for sharing my voice. I’m always honored.

This poem is another departure from the last two. It isn’t horror or science fiction, but pure fantasy with a hint of social commentary. I steal inspiration from Norse Mythology, my favorite of the big mythologies you’re forced to learn about in high school.

Also, in that same period of my life, I played a very influential video game called Valkyrie Profile which introduced a more personal and specific level of storytelling in the Norse mythology setting. That’s why I decided to get nostalgic with Odin in this poem and explore his line of thinking.

In “The Ordinary” I talk about Ragnarök, or the twilight of the gods, and how Odin is jealous about our simplicity compared to the cosmic battle he must fight at the end of times. He’s jealous of how easy we’ve got it on Midgard, even compared to the glory and majesty of this great war.

You can read “The Ordinary” right here.

And one more big thank you to Altered Reality for their acceptances. Again, please visit and read their whole catalogue. They’re awesome.

Happy reading, and have a great Wednesday!

Read my Poem “The Ordinary” at Altered Reality Magazine

One more poem to share on these Wednesdays. The final one in that trio of publications. Super grateful to Altered Reality Magazine for sharing my voice. I’m always honored.

This poem is another departure from the last two. It isn’t horror or science fiction, but pure fantasy with a hint of social commentary. I steal inspiration from Norse Mythology, my favorite of the big mythologies you’re forced to learn about in high school.

Also, in that same period of my life, I played a very influential video game called Valkyrie Profile which introduced a more personal and specific level of storytelling in the Norse mythology setting. That’s why I decided to get nostalgic with Odin in this poem and explore his line of thinking.

In “The Ordinary” I talk about Ragnarök, or the twilight of the gods, and how Odin is jealous about our simplicity compared to the cosmic battle he must fight at the end of times. He’s jealous of how easy we’ve got it on Midgard, even compared to the glory and majesty of this great war.

You can read “The Ordinary” right here.

And one more big thank you to Altered Reality for their acceptances. Again, please visit and read their whole catalogue. They’re awesome.

Happy reading, and have a great Wednesday!

Visit me Selling my Books at Art A Whirl 2026

Alright, pretty self explanatory. I’ll be at Art A Whirl all weekend selling my books.

Art A Whirl is an awesome event, and this is my first time at it. So I guess I assume it’s awesome? I have no idea what to expect. I’ve heard amazing things. I know that is busy, fun, different, unique, and very artsy.

To learn more about Art a Whirl hit it right here.

I’ll be there for the whole thing. Admission is FREE. Friday 5 – 10 pm, Saturday 12 – 8 pm, and Sunday 12 – 5 pm. I’m in the Artspace Jackson Flats 901 18 1⁄2 Ave NE Minneapolis, MN 55418. I’m inside the building, in front of some office door. I hope nobody gets entombed by my books, but so be it if it happens.

I’ll have all my books for sale. All revised editions. The best these books have to offer. Now is the time to get invested in the series. Also, buy other stuff around the place. It isn’t all about me. I love my monsters, and my books, but there is so much to see at this event. I can’t wait to be a part of it.

Hope to see you there!

Visit me Selling my Books at Art A Whirl 2026

Alright, pretty self explanatory. I’ll be at Art A Whirl all weekend selling my books.

Art A Whirl is an awesome event, and this is my first time at it. So I guess I assume it’s awesome? I have no idea what to expect. I’ve heard amazing things. I know that is busy, fun, different, unique, and very artsy.

To learn more about Art a Whirl hit it right here.

I’ll be there for the whole thing. Admission is FREE. Friday 5 – 10 pm, Saturday 12 – 8 pm, and Sunday 12 – 5 pm. I’m in the Artspace Jackson Flats 901 18 1⁄2 Ave NE Minneapolis, MN 55418. I’m inside the building, in front of some office door. I hope nobody gets entombed by my books, but so be it if it happens.

I’ll have all my books for sale. All revised editions. The best these books have to offer. Now is the time to get invested in the series. Also, buy other stuff around the place. It isn’t all about me. I love my monsters, and my books, but there is so much to see at this event. I can’t wait to be a part of it.

Hope to see you there!

Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

Who would take care of them?

In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

How will they cope? Who will be there?

You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

Read my Poem “A Junkyard Father” Published on Altered Reality Magazine

Hello again! I recently had a trifecta of luck at Altered Reality with some poems, and this is my second one that was picked up for publication by them.

This week the poem is a little different than my previous one. No haunted forest or paradoxical monsters.

Instead, I choose to focus on an image that has haunted me ever since I watched it. The toy scene in Bladerunner (director’s cut of course) in Sebastian’s attic has stuck with me ever since I watched it back in 2004. I often wonder what would those cybernetic creations do if Sebastian never returned.

Who would take care of them?

In “A Junkyard Father” I follow this same idea and principle. A scientist has created sentient toys in some robotic future, and he is confronted with the concept of mortality. When he dies and leaves this world, they’ll be nobody to take care of them. The toys will outlive him, and still require maintenance. He’ll die when they could potentially live for centuries.

How will they cope? Who will be there?

You can read “A Junkyard Father” right here.

As always, you should check out the whole of Altered Reality. They publish great stuff from a variety of voices.

Thank you for reading my work, and have a nice Wednesday!

Malaise and Pushups

Mostly, I love mornings. Unless I have to go to work. This happens to be the majority of mornings. Despite me writing all the time like some frenzied badger with spectacles and a cardigan, I don’t make a living at it, or at least enough to make it my fulltime gig. In the future I keep telling myself. Anyways, waking myself up in the morning is hard. Don’t get me wrong, I like my 9 – 5 job. It pays the bills, keeps me alive, provides a little for my family, etc. At my wedding my coworkers were more enjoyable than the majority of my family. That doesn’t stop the existential dread I feel in the morning. One life. What am I doing? How I hate being another nameless cog in the hyper capitalist machine.

I get up early, close to 5 am before getting ready for work. Apparently, and I’ve become more health conscious as I’ve gotten older, but men’s cortisol is highest in the morning. So yeah, all the anxiety, stress, ideas, memories, thoughts, it all hits me like a ton of bricks in the morning.

I can’t speak for all men in this phenomenon of course. Not trying to whatsoever. However, there is plenty of scientific evidence that men’s cortisol levels are highest in the morning. I know for myself currently it is true. I don’t meditate or really attempt that sort of stuff. I guess this could be some variation of it. After I use the bathroom I sort of just lay on the couch and close my eyes. No music. No audiobook. I just give myself about 20 minutes to let my mind be sort of crazy. Paranoia, worry, anxiety, rumination, and intrusive thoughts get their time. I’m always stocked up in those categories. I sort of focus on all the anger and anxiety. I sometimes go past the 20, and sometimes I go less.

After I journey down this dark hole of reflection and wistfulness, I usually workout. I go for about 30 minutes. I do three exercises of free weights, with five sets of each. It is usually a mix of upper body, lower body, and core work. After this I brush my teeth and make myself presentable for the workday. I kiss my wife goodbye, go wake up my kids if I have them that day, and then head to work or to drop them off. Sometimes I have to take my dog back to my exes as well. He’s part of our divorce agreement. Getting twin 10 year old boys, and a dog ready and into my car at 7:00 am is not an easy process. It tends to be stressful.

There have been plenty of times where I skip working out because I’ve ventured too far into the abyss. Where the malaise and existential wormhole has shackled me and I find myself to be unmovable until it is time to wake up my sons. So my weird meditation has drawbacks. Overall, I’ve found if I give myself just some time to worry about things, to really let my anxieties breath in the day, it is much easier to operate. I’m giving the devil its due for about twenty minutes, and that is it. This technique sort of shackles these spots in place for the day. Not saying they don’t reappear. I’ve found at night when I’m tired my ability to control them is weakened.

Weekends are obviously a little bit different. I still tend to wake up before my wife and kids are up, since my schedule is designed for early morning activity. I usually spend my mornings working out if my schedule is thrown off, or I skipped day during the week. I work on blog posts, submissions, edits, and other smaller bits of writing. If I complete all those I’ll play a video game like Tears of the Kingdom, or something else.

As one does.

Malaise and Pushups

Mostly, I love mornings. Unless I have to go to work. This happens to be the majority of mornings. Despite me writing all the time like some frenzied badger with spectacles and a cardigan, I don’t make a living at it, or at least enough to make it my fulltime gig. In the future I keep telling myself. Anyways, waking myself up in the morning is hard. Don’t get me wrong, I like my 9 – 5 job. It pays the bills, keeps me alive, provides a little for my family, etc. At my wedding my coworkers were more enjoyable than the majority of my family. That doesn’t stop the existential dread I feel in the morning. One life. What am I doing? How I hate being another nameless cog in the hyper capitalist machine.

I get up early, close to 5 am before getting ready for work. Apparently, and I’ve become more health conscious as I’ve gotten older, but men’s cortisol is highest in the morning. So yeah, all the anxiety, stress, ideas, memories, thoughts, it all hits me like a ton of bricks in the morning.

I can’t speak for all men in this phenomenon of course. Not trying to whatsoever. However, there is plenty of scientific evidence that men’s cortisol levels are highest in the morning. I know for myself currently it is true. I don’t meditate or really attempt that sort of stuff. I guess this could be some variation of it. After I use the bathroom I sort of just lay on the couch and close my eyes. No music. No audiobook. I just give myself about 20 minutes to let my mind be sort of crazy. Paranoia, worry, anxiety, rumination, and intrusive thoughts get their time. I’m always stocked up in those categories. I sort of focus on all the anger and anxiety. I sometimes go past the 20, and sometimes I go less.

After I journey down this dark hole of reflection and wistfulness, I usually workout. I go for about 30 minutes. I do three exercises of free weights, with five sets of each. It is usually a mix of upper body, lower body, and core work. After this I brush my teeth and make myself presentable for the workday. I kiss my wife goodbye, go wake up my kids if I have them that day, and then head to work or to drop them off. Sometimes I have to take my dog back to my exes as well. He’s part of our divorce agreement. Getting twin 10 year old boys, and a dog ready and into my car at 7:00 am is not an easy process. It tends to be stressful.

There have been plenty of times where I skip working out because I’ve ventured too far into the abyss. Where the malaise and existential wormhole has shackled me and I find myself to be unmovable until it is time to wake up my sons. So my weird meditation has drawbacks. Overall, I’ve found if I give myself just some time to worry about things, to really let my anxieties breath in the day, it is much easier to operate. I’m giving the devil its due for about twenty minutes, and that is it. This technique sort of shackles these spots in place for the day. Not saying they don’t reappear. I’ve found at night when I’m tired my ability to control them is weakened.

Weekends are obviously a little bit different. I still tend to wake up before my wife and kids are up, since my schedule is designed for early morning activity. I usually spend my mornings working out if my schedule is thrown off, or I skipped day during the week. I work on blog posts, submissions, edits, and other smaller bits of writing. If I complete all those I’ll play a video game like Tears of the Kingdom, or something else.

As one does.

Read my Poems Published by Horrific Scribblings

Pretty straightforward blog post today. I was fortunate enough for Horrific Scribblings an excellent literary magazine to accept and publish three of my poems recently in one of their issues.

All three poems followed the same theme of horrific cultural folklore. The collection was titled: “Stones, Bridges, and Blades: Three Poems of Legend and Lore.”

You can read all three of them right here

Like I said above, there are three poems in all.

One poem is about Medusa, and the POV of the statues in her acropolis of terror. I love that I’ve been wanting an excuse to use the word ‘acropolis’ and I made a poem for the occasion.

The second poem is about a troll who cannot stand any sound. I’ve wanted to use a pickling mechanic in my creature design, and this poem has it. Very disturbing.

The third poem is what attracted this lit magazine to my voice initially, and its about the relationship between a warrior and his haunted sword. How a hunger for violence can spread to inanimate objects, and be mutually beneficial.

Besides my poetry, you really should just read this lit magazine in general. They have amazing content, and if you like horror or write it, this is a must of a destination. I’ve highly enjoyed what I’ve digested from Horrific Scribblings. Very honored that they took a chance on my voice.

You can find the main page right here

Thank you for the support everyone!

Read my Poems Published by Horrific Scribblings

Pretty straightforward blog post today. I was fortunate enough for Horrific Scribblings an excellent literary magazine to accept and publish three of my poems recently in one of their issues.

All three poems followed the same theme of horrific cultural folklore. The collection was titled: “Stones, Bridges, and Blades: Three Poems of Legend and Lore.”

You can read all three of them right here

Like I said above, there are three poems in all.

One poem is about Medusa, and the POV of the statues in her acropolis of terror. I love that I’ve been wanting an excuse to use the word ‘acropolis’ and I made a poem for the occasion.

The second poem is about a troll who cannot stand any sound. I’ve wanted to use a pickling mechanic in my creature design, and this poem has it. Very disturbing.

The third poem is what attracted this lit magazine to my voice initially, and its about the relationship between a warrior and his haunted sword. How a hunger for violence can spread to inanimate objects, and be mutually beneficial.

Besides my poetry, you really should just read this lit magazine in general. They have amazing content, and if you like horror or write it, this is a must of a destination. I’ve highly enjoyed what I’ve digested from Horrific Scribblings. Very honored that they took a chance on my voice.

You can find the main page right here

Thank you for the support everyone!

Goals are Roots to a Forest

I’m not a huge fan of questions like this, which is why I decided to answer this specific daily writing prompt. A question like this oversimplifies the complexities of life and all its many forces that are thrown at you. I just don’t agree with reducing down a yes or no when it comes to your goals. As if you were simply flipping on a light switch when it reflects making decisions and how they correlate to your goals.

That’s not how dreams and goals actually function in our fragile reality.

We have a bit of a dream/goal issue in our society. We sort of look at them as single-lane highway firing off into some yellow rock wasteland. You can only go in one direction. The hustle. The grind. All those bits of vernacular from the social media monster of a zeitgeist. They’re all masks over shadows. With goals and dreams, if you get off this road of destiny, I feel shame and guilt for sometimes being limited as a freaking human being.

Wants, needs, desires, rest, self-care, there is this certain cloud of shame that surrounds you if you’re not relentlessly pursuing your goals.

I understand passion. Drive. All those buzzwords. I have passion in spades. My god, I’ve gone back and forth on traditional publishing, and self-publishing so many times. Sometimes between decades. I’ve been trying to figure out which direction to go. My overarching goal is the same though as I execute this fluid state. I want to get my voice out there. I want to be seen. I want to tell stories about monsters, and their complexities in various mediums.

These are all different branches, forests, and pathways from the same root.

And that is okay. Your dreams, or for the sake of this question, your goals, don’t have to flow in one direction. We are not a one lane highway. Goals can spread out, find different homes, and adapt to what is echoing in your personal life. Because yes, I would say I’m living my dream by pursuing writing and my monster fascination, but also I want a personal life, and that requires me to be human, and have human needs. I have a wife. Children. A family. Friends. Connections to people in my life. Their needs and mine do not require me to say no, they just require me to be human.

So basically what I’m saying is that you can’t make things this simplistic when it comes to your goals, because goals populate reality in ways you can’t even imagine, exactly how one root can start a forest.

Also, you cannot predict how your goals will unfold, and that’s all the fun.

Goals are Roots to a Forest

I’m not a huge fan of questions like this, which is why I decided to answer this specific daily writing prompt. A question like this oversimplifies the complexities of life and all its many forces that are thrown at you. I just don’t agree with reducing down a yes or no when it comes to your goals. As if you were simply flipping on a light switch when it reflects making decisions and how they correlate to your goals.

That’s not how dreams and goals actually function in our fragile reality.

We have a bit of a dream/goal issue in our society. We sort of look at them as single-lane highway firing off into some yellow rock wasteland. You can only go in one direction. The hustle. The grind. All those bits of vernacular from the social media monster of a zeitgeist. They’re all masks over shadows. With goals and dreams, if you get off this road of destiny, I feel shame and guilt for sometimes being limited as a freaking human being.

Wants, needs, desires, rest, self-care, there is this certain cloud of shame that surrounds you if you’re not relentlessly pursuing your goals.

I understand passion. Drive. All those buzzwords. I have passion in spades. My god, I’ve gone back and forth on traditional publishing, and self-publishing so many times. Sometimes between decades. I’ve been trying to figure out which direction to go. My overarching goal is the same though as I execute this fluid state. I want to get my voice out there. I want to be seen. I want to tell stories about monsters, and their complexities in various mediums.

These are all different branches, forests, and pathways from the same root.

And that is okay. Your dreams, or for the sake of this question, your goals, don’t have to flow in one direction. We are not a one lane highway. Goals can spread out, find different homes, and adapt to what is echoing in your personal life. Because yes, I would say I’m living my dream by pursuing writing and my monster fascination, but also I want a personal life, and that requires me to be human, and have human needs. I have a wife. Children. A family. Friends. Connections to people in my life. Their needs and mine do not require me to say no, they just require me to be human.

So basically what I’m saying is that you can’t make things this simplistic when it comes to your goals, because goals populate reality in ways you can’t even imagine, exactly how one root can start a forest.

Also, you cannot predict how your goals will unfold, and that’s all the fun.

Bonus Free Book for March

Exactly as the post title says, I have a free bonus book for this weekend. It is my favorite novel (alas not my most popular) Beware the Ills, which is FREE today and tomorrow on the Kindle. I have been sharing this novel in chunks the last year, which you can read right here, but if you’re dying to finish it, just get the book. Dark fantasy, steampunk, weird POV, giant sword fights, cannibal monster guy, pet sasquatch, etc.

For the last 30 years he has been the sole protector of the legendary Diamond Town. Every hour it snows, howls, and storms. Every week, wave after wave of invaders crawl through the woods scouring for a bit of fame and glory on this lost island — and he cuts them all down with indiscriminate slashes of his sword. No one has survived being the Guardian as long as him, and the shadows are seething with vengeance in the forests and mountains. A vengeful cannibal from a lost invasion, ancient beasts stalking about the mountains waiting to attack, and a fresh new batch of invaders with a beautiful berserker and emotionless captain are just a few of the festering plagues on this cursed island. There will be no respite. There will be no end to the war and strife. The winters are growing longer, the cold harsher, and the enemies bolder. Take a walk in the footsteps of the Diamond Town’s Guardian and his world, through his own blood-weary eyes. Count your footsteps and mind the silence, it’s time to hunt, and to fill the graveyard again.

Hit it here to get Beware the Ills for FREE on the Kindle Today and Tomorrow

Bonus Free Book for March

Exactly as the post title says, I have a free bonus book for this weekend. It is my favorite novel (alas not my most popular) Beware the Ills, which is FREE today and tomorrow on the Kindle. I have been sharing this novel in chunks the last year, which you can read right here, but if you’re dying to finish it, just get the book. Dark fantasy, steampunk, weird POV, giant sword fights, cannibal monster guy, pet sasquatch, etc.

For the last 30 years he has been the sole protector of the legendary Diamond Town. Every hour it snows, howls, and storms. Every week, wave after wave of invaders crawl through the woods scouring for a bit of fame and glory on this lost island — and he cuts them all down with indiscriminate slashes of his sword. No one has survived being the Guardian as long as him, and the shadows are seething with vengeance in the forests and mountains. A vengeful cannibal from a lost invasion, ancient beasts stalking about the mountains waiting to attack, and a fresh new batch of invaders with a beautiful berserker and emotionless captain are just a few of the festering plagues on this cursed island. There will be no respite. There will be no end to the war and strife. The winters are growing longer, the cold harsher, and the enemies bolder. Take a walk in the footsteps of the Diamond Town’s Guardian and his world, through his own blood-weary eyes. Count your footsteps and mind the silence, it’s time to hunt, and to fill the graveyard again.

Hit it here to get Beware the Ills for FREE on the Kindle Today and Tomorrow

I Understand

I felt like this could go a bunch of different directions.

There are compliments I’ve received from friends, readers, editors, lovers, my children, and family through the years. For all of those I am grateful, and certainly not always deserving of them. Some compliments of course mean a ton to me, and I have thought about them often, especially in dark moments that have weighed me down. I’ve even screenshot or wrote them down for me to revisit when the fog of negativity has surrounded my mind, eating away at all corners of my mind.

Man, depression is a beast with a thousand faces and arms.

Those soul-saving compliments mean a lot of me, and my choice for this writing prompt isn’t me throwing shade on them, or diminishing their roles in my life. I just wanted to find something simple, but sort of universal for life when it comes to compliments. Something you could both give a stranger or loved one. A sort of fix all compliment with typically low impressions but with high stakes.

I settled on: I understand.

It’s not flashy. It’s not sexy. It isn’t something you’d write at the bottom of a Valentine’s Day card.

So many of us struggle to get seen in life, much less accepted for who we are. My god, I write about monsters to be seen. Having someone, in whatever capacity say “I understand,” is an allusion to that feeling of being seen. A wavelength of being human is seen. Have you noticed when you’re having conflict and someone pulls out the “I understand,” and how much that deescalates the situation? It is almost a magic bullet.

However, don’t say it unless you mean it. I guess a comp to that would be don’t say “I love you,” unless you really mean it. Don’t say you understand someone, but not actually do. There is weight to the compliment, especially with the more complex, personal situations. Understanding has a sense of memory. You can build a relationship with a person when you say it, even if they’re a stranger or your estranged father. When you say I understand you’re trying to match up with their humanity. Aligning things just right for a simple second of connection.

It makes you feel like you’re not alone, whether it is in life, or in your perspective. Also, even though I do believe some POV’s are not understandable, especially in a casual setting, but learning to understand people tends to stimulate self-growth. You learn more from understanding than not. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been telling my wife vulnerable things and she has said this to me in one form or another.

Again, I believe that many of us are struggling to be seen and understood. Life is complicated. It can be an amazing compliment when someone simply tries to understand you.

March Free Book Giveaway

It is a purely Greenland Diaries theme book giveaway for this March. Today and tomorrow (March 14th and 15th), the first three books in my apocalyptic horror series are free on the Kindle. These books are part of a relaunch of the series with new edits, revisions, and polishings. It is the perfect time to get invested in this collection. Plus, I will have a new Greenland Diaries book coming out this summer entitled the Unnamed. It is a giant collection of short stories separate from the main narrative, but sharing the same universe. More details forthcoming. Until then, enjoy the free books below.

“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.” The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE on the Kindle

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.All errors have been left intact in the effort to preserve historical authenticity. If you have any information about these diaries, please contact your closest bureau to speak to a representative.

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 for FREE on the Kindle

“They come for me at night. I will not outrun them. We can’t fight them every drum. They need to stop. They need to get away from me. I can’t keep fighting what I don’t see. When will it stop? There are faceless monsters in the night. There are faceless monsters in the day. People sewn together from dead parts like old clothes. I don’t understand it. Someone please help me.”

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 141 – 200 for FREE on the Kindle

March Free Book Giveaway

It is a purely Greenland Diaries theme book giveaway for this March. Today and tomorrow (March 14th and 15th), the first three books in my apocalyptic horror series are free on the Kindle. These books are part of a relaunch of the series with new edits, revisions, and polishings. It is the perfect time to get invested in this collection. Plus, I will have a new Greenland Diaries book coming out this summer entitled the Unnamed. It is a giant collection of short stories separate from the main narrative, but sharing the same universe. More details forthcoming. Until then, enjoy the free books below.

“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.” The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE on the Kindle

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.All errors have been left intact in the effort to preserve historical authenticity. If you have any information about these diaries, please contact your closest bureau to speak to a representative.

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 for FREE on the Kindle

“They come for me at night. I will not outrun them. We can’t fight them every drum. They need to stop. They need to get away from me. I can’t keep fighting what I don’t see. When will it stop? There are faceless monsters in the night. There are faceless monsters in the day. People sewn together from dead parts like old clothes. I don’t understand it. Someone please help me.”

Click HERE to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 141 – 200 for FREE on the Kindle

I talk about karma, monsters, and using superstitions as plot devices in my response to this daily writing prompt. Hit the link below for the whole post:

#writing #blogging #wordpress #dailywritingprompt #horror #fiction #literaryhorror #books #patrickwmarsh #karma #superstitious #blogginglife

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/03/11/between-karma-and-monsters/