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This is the crooked little workshop behind the art —
a place for unfinished poems, scattered thoughts,
ink-stained pages, visual art, lyrics, stories, fragments,
and all the strange things still becoming themselves.
Some works found here may one day grow into
finished collections of their own.
Others may remain scraps, sketches, or
wandering little creatures left exactly as they are.
This is where the roots show.
The drafts.
The late-night ideas.
The beautiful mess before the pieces
find where they belong.
So come wander through the malice.
The Malice World
No King
(Guitar Intro) (Verse 1) America has no king, no crown to rule a nation 's mind, no single voice should rise on dread to claim all humankind. Something stirs beneath the soil, its echoing in the clay— what’s built on bones won’t stay below, it breathes still to this day. No king… No crown… (Verse 2) The treaties turned from word to ash, their promises erased, the Trail still winds through hist'ry's grief, through every life displaced. The children taken, re-named, erased, the
Malice Blūm
May 273 min read
The Vessel
My son loves DND and Hollow Knight. So he asked me to sketch him a few of the Hollow Knight characters as DND charcters. Still working on the line work. This is the first of many.
Malice Blūm
May 271 min read
Still Here...Still Rising
I see you, child, in a house of stone, learning too early to stand alone, the hands that should guide instead caused tears, yet you found the courage to face your fears, a spark survived where the dark had crept, a soul still rising though silence wept. I see you, teen, with the night as your bed, a bridge for a pillow, the stars overhead, cast out or escaping, yet still you fight, you carve out a family from shards of the night, your feet keep moving, though heavy the cost,
Malice Blūm
May 262 min read
Motherhood
There was a time my heartbeat was the only one I knew, and even keeping that alive felt impossible to do. The world was sharp with winter then, uncertain, hard, and wild, until it placed into my arms, Jacob, my firstborn child. You arrived unplanned to everyone, including your dad and me, and suddenly your fragile heart depended on our plea. We could not always pay the bills, or fill the kitchen shelves, but somehow love still built a home from broken parts of ourselves. The
Malice Blūm
May 233 min read
Falling Apart
When my seizures were at their worst, I started drawing more seriously, using it more like therapy. When my body felt out of control, art became something within my control—a place where the chaos could go. Over time, the act of drawing became its own kind of therapy.
Malice Blūm
May 221 min read
Echoes Beyond the Veil: A Cosmic Elegy
We orbit wide and free, beneath the gaze of distant stars, One drifts 'round horizon’s edge, ensnared by collapsing scars. Their Eden blooms with light, where joy and river-song unite, Unknowing that their skies conceal a darker kind of night. Beneath soft moons, their laughter rings as dreams are carved and sown, But all their paths wind inward to a gravity unknown. We sing through interstellar seas, in choir with nebulae, Deaf to our call, they thrive instead where silence
Malice Blūm
May 212 min read
She Is The Oak
It— did begin with star-bright eyes, born in this world so fair, with faith as pure as dawn’s first light, no dread might linger there. “Sweet mother,” cried its gentle voice, "Dear father,” came its plea, it dreamt of arms that held it close, and hearts beat ever free. But hands that should have gently held, did strike with cold disdain, and lips that ought to bless its brow, did bring instead, but pain. Where children’s dreams should sprout and bloom, dark shadows crept uns
Malice Blūm
May 202 min read
Mother Of Ash And Bloom
Dona walked through halls where light once kissed the stone, A castle proud, now fallen and alone. Each room recalls what she allowed to decay, Skies once bright now churn in ashen gray. She thought desire could guard what once was hers, Yet all she built now smolders and blurs. She kissed the venom, She drank the storm, Pretended the chaos could keep her warm, While Solan held his vigil, constant yet unseen—
Malice Blūm
May 192 min read
Ink Of You
Our eyes ignite, flint struck in night, a spark climbs up, a wicked light. Your lips find mine, the world turns small, a bloom of heat, a shadowed thrall. Your hands, like silk, glide over me, unwrapping secrets none can see. Each kiss a pulse, each whispered breath, a vow that quivers close to death. You taste the hollow—slow, divine— then graze my collar, leave your sign. I shiver, half-desire, half-glow, a molten candle bending low. Fabric falls on steps we tread, soft cas
Malice Blūm
May 181 min read
Persephone
They crowned her queen of ash and grief, with nettles in her hair, and whispered, “See the dark you cast— it’s you who put it there.” They fed her light in measured sips, and named her shadow’s source; they built a cage of borrowed blame and called it love’s remorse. She learned to bloom without the sun, to smile through shallow breath; they taught her beauty’s price was pain, and silence sounded best. Then from below, a murmur came, a voice both fierce and kind; she thought
Malice Blūm
May 172 min read
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