if you study the Tarot you know… — By Quinn Zhael If you study the Tarot you know Swords are for words, Cups are for feelings Impaled by your swords My cups runneth over Out of my chest The water turns to blood It pools at my feet Surrounds me and drowns me I float on the surface Shifting on the ebb and flow My swords all tied behind…

finding the tribe we are lost from — by Quinn Zhael Arid like the desert Desert yellow sand Sand so soft and fine Fine and warm, as your hand Like dunes ever-shifting Shifting and rearranging Rearranging highlights and shadow Shadows dancing, undulating Dreaming of the chance Chance of finding the tribe we are lost from From the culture we belong in In my hands, your…

by Quinn Zhael As I awake, my stomach quakes Limbs — legs and arms, begin to ache My heart and mind are full of dreams Body cut open at the seams I burn inside and try to hide From a sun that seems to chide A mind that holds the silent screams Body cut open at the seams Give me sun that applauds the day My blight, affliction, kept at bay My Besta Negra’s cold eyes gleam Body cut open at the seams By Quinn Zhael Poems and stories by my beloved friend, Quinntieteneboh.medium.com

the galaxy belongs to us — by Quinn Zhael The galaxy belongs to us And find for you the key, I must Four guardians stand at the gate Our besta negras lie in wait Trespass with me you will, I trust Their eyes burn down into our eyes They speak in riddles, laced with lies Snakes writhe and whisper of mistrust — The galaxy belongs to us The Oracle is bound and gagged Our angel lies face down and stabbed Somehow, my dear, we’ll navigate And towards the key we’ll gravitate Together we will forge, and thus The galaxy belongs to us

full story — 1. World Under Up in the city, there’s a place where people go to get flipped over on their heads. There below hangs a shadow turned solid in the shape of a living person, a description only suiting for a man named Sussex. The chill of a pending first date teases his future…

Good as grits… — Chapter IV. | Metropolis “What? Why?” Sussex’s voice reveals his disposition to do anything related to running is about none. “Come on. I bet we can make it across before the next train comes … or you afraid to get hit?” “Mmm. I don’t think so.” He buzzkills again! But Riette’s prepared a hot…