• Chasing Tales RPG: BLM Charity One Shot
• WanderHome One Shot
• Heroic Chord One Shot
• Candied Violets One Shot (HuetopiaTV)
• Juneteenth Event: Mutants in the Night (HuetopiaTV)

• Alien RPG Act I: Episode 1.1
• Alien RPG Act I: Episode 1.2
• Alien RPG Act I: Episode 2
• Alien RPG Act II
• Alien RPG Act III: Episode 1
• Alien RPG Act III: Episode 2
• Alien RPG Act III: Episode 3
• Alien RPG FINALE

When did you first wear your crown?

Was it gifted to you?
Your coronation a
Bloody celebration
With flowers scattered in May

Or was it thrust upon you?
When your clothes ran red
And your body became mine
With lips smeared in crimson.

Was it painted in leather and ink
While your family celebrated the
Shakes in your hands
From paper slicing fingers?

Did you grow up first?
Your circlet was made of
Candy and crayons
Replaced when your stars died off

Did you have a chance to breathe?
To learn how to be human
Before you were forced
To lead people you never wanted to lead.

Or were you like the rest of us?
Born with crowns of chains
Their metallic thorns stabbing
Into our curls and piercing

Our young heads.
Born kings
Born queens
Born silent, not free.

Born with stolen land to rule
As we became an example
For the masses
As they judged and accused us

Born to be strong when everyone
Else was allowed to cry.
Born with tears in our eyes
As our ghosts scrabbled,

Clawed at the same chains
The mote carrying tombstones
Our castle built on blood
Our dress made from cotton.

You laugh and show your crown
Saying we’re all the same.
But my crown is chipped steel
And yours is polished gold.

And you forget
My crown is still of chains

Speak to me in tongues of the dead.
In the memories long since past,
In the haze and blur of far off times,
When I was young and your face wrinkled

Still. Speak to me in the rush of cold,
As noon shifts to night, and Orion’s Belt
Glints bright. I time travel while you
Inhale smoke and I breathe out mist.

Speak to me in the crackle of fire,
The hearth full of Yuletide next to the static
Your box TV becoming my neighbor
While the bear’s snores echo in my mind.

Speak to me in fruit and red
Sauce dripping from your spoon.
The tiles stinging my feet while I smell
Italian and Ukrainian mixing with the magnets on your fridge.

Speak to me in cards dealt,
Tonic and gin revealing your hand.
My brother watched spades turn to diamonds,
And I traded in my hearts for clubs.

Speak to me in the kneading of dough,
In the flickers of candles as I sing
“Cristos voskrese,” and you reply
With god’s words dripping from

Your lips. Speak to me in fables.
Legends of our family spilling forth
Stories winding through my mind
As I cling to fantasies that shape my life.

Speak to me as pages cut the soft of my palms,
My fingers dancing across blades of grass,
Chasing the pixies in my books
While the texture of your leather cups my hand.

Speak to me of those I cannot know.
Faded pictures in black and white,
Our blood barely tracked
When they sailed to a land thought new.

Speak to me in a broken piano,
My fingers cold as chills crawl up my body.
But still you clap, my duckling toddle
Following you, while discordant notes thrum

Through me. Speak to me in the sand,
As I hold out a shell to hear your voice
The ocean echoing now,
Whispering somberly to carry the memory.

Speak to me in the tongue of the dead
In the tongue of the one who could not remember.
And I will whisper back.

I will whisper back as one who can.

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