i dreamt of never being forgotten by James Grosse

and the sky began to forget the sun,

and the sun brought forth a fire,

and that fire burned until there was nothing left,

save for the burning embers of pain that glowed in the smoke like clouds,

and the sun passed beyond the light of its own making,

where it dreamt it was never forgotten,

until it burned the sky again


if there's one thing that i could tell you... by James Grosse

of the many things I could say to you,

if there's one thing,

that i could tell you,

that's burned deeply in my mind,

something as vibrant as spring flowers,

as bright as summer days,

something so wonderful,

that it's almost disheartening when it's not around.

if there's one thing,

that it is,

it's genuine.




and when i'm audience to this one thing,

i feel as though i've achieved greatness.

even when you don't think i notice,

i notice.

and sometimes it's hard for me to put into words what i'm thinking,

or what i'm feeling.

but if it's this one thing,

that i could tell you right now,

it's that your smile is the most beautiful thing that's ever haunted me.

happy fathers day by James Grosse

I remember my dad calling me his "little man" and that's all I was able to be for him. I miss the fact that he wasn't able to be there during my important years. To help guide me, watch me grow and show me the discipline to be a great man. I miss the simple fact I can't call him up and talk about sports with him. Feeling the joy I know he'd have at the Cavs win, because I know how much Ohio meant to him.

I was 10 years old when my dad passed and he left behind many incredible people, including his amazing, talented and beautiful daughters, my sisters, who have always been there for me and who I look up to, even though I am distant. He left me in the care of my incredible, beautiful and talented mother, who did the best job to raise me by herself, that anyone could ask for. 

Every year, I have a different dream of me encountering my dad in a crowd of people and feeling like I was actually there in that space with him. Able to touch him and hug him. Its happened as far back as I can remember. To this day, I vividly remember looking at him in his coffin, the smell of that cologne he always wore, the token items left to be buried a long with him, and I remember running my small 10 year old fingers gently against his face and saying goodbye to him physically for the last time.

While I am grateful for all of the people I have in my life, who I have ever encountered, who I have ever liked and disliked and those who ever guided me or cared for me in some way, I have to believe there is nothing like having your father in your life. 

To my friends and family members who are fathers, whose children might not understand what not having a father around means, I wish you Happy Fathers Day. Cherish your "little men" and "little women"

To my dad, James Robert Grosse, and all dads who aren't able to be with us this year, I wish you a Happy Fathers Day because even though you know they absolutely wanted to be with you at this moment, life had different plans for them along the way. 

some kind of disposition by James Grosse

This poem was originally posted January 12, 2016 on wordpress

the cold air crept in around us
my body reacting to an internal circumstance
it splintered and bruised
unexpected and undesired consequences
my mind took over
my darkness, the pilot
i lay still for those days
pondered why i wasted all i had
why i treated those like passing fancies
it swirled and tilted like a child spinning in circles
numbed by a warm blanket and flickering screen of nothing
ruminations on undeterminable evidence
leading me away from the light
a well needed visit and instilled confidence
but again my body weakened from within
filled with distress
i rested and rested
each ache i felt leaving worries on my mind
days pass and i ponder if i might be broken
a shining light and comfort appear as a shadow in my eyes
the loneliest i’ve been
but hope is like an antibiotic to my darkness
and im looking to fill my prescription
so i write and i write.

room of death by James Grosse

i walked slowly into the small, contained room. 
the stench of rotting corpses hit my nostrils.
smelling the exact opposite of delicious,
like a loved one making you breakfast in the morning, it filled the room.

i let out a gasp
and pinched my nose.
i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t have to be.
the kind of smell that you can almost see manifested, wafting around you.

it crawled over my skin,
and i shivered.
i thought that my vomit would shortly be added to the misery of this place.
i would run, but i had a job to complete.

as i neared what i was looking for,
the room tightened around me.
no matter how hard i pinched my nose closed,
the smell pierced through the creases in my nostrils,
like an otherworldy creature’s sharp nails digging in, 
dying to take my soul.

as i approached what i was looking for,
i glanced down and saw the source,
of this deathly, rotted hell.
i gagged.

for there is nothing worse,
than a workplace bathroom.
someone always forgetting to flush,
and someone always to follow.

may God save your soul.

roadkill by James Grosse

This short story was originally posted June 12, 2015 on wordpress

It was 10 O’clock at night as I was driving home

I gritted my teeth.

My nerves tensed.

Just up ahead my headlights showed it scurry across the 3 lane street into oncoming traffic.

I worry sick at moments like these.

I said a little prayer for its safety.

As it scuttled confused in the farthest right lane, all I could feel was dread.

It was hit by the closest car and flew in the air.

Immense sadness filled my insides.

As I drove closer, I mourned the death of the poor thing.

The poor…medium size McDonalds paper cup.

Rest in Pibb.

a life taken too soon by James Grosse

This short story was originally posted July 21, 2015 on wordpress

Writhing in pain, he lay at my feet.

His body was broken as his life was passing.

His legs moved ever so slightly as he stared at me with much dismay.

What had I done?

It was only an accident. I swear.

Blood, and guts seeped from his body and I stared back at him as if to apologize.

Had your life been worth it? I imagined speaking this to him.

In a completely catatonic state, I knew he wouldn’t reply.

Why? I imagined him asking me with his last breath.

Why have you taken my life?

He must have had a family somewhere.

Family that cared for him, like my family cares for me.

I’m sure they’ll be missing him when the dinner bell rings.

Hopefully there’s no search parties after 48 hours.

I turned away as his legs stopped moving and his eyes glazed over.

I felt terrible, but to be honest I would’ve done it on purpose if it wasn’t for the accident.

As I turned back around, with a single solid swipe of a paper towel I cleared his wretched body from the ground and threw him in the trash.

That damn dirty cockroach.

i could love you by James Grosse

Originally posted February 4th, 2016 on Wordpress

the sound of a stem snapping
a flower pulled from the ground. 
i look it over,
as if it was something i’d never seen.
colors vibrant under the light of the sun.
i admired it wishfully,
twirling it between my fingers.
its reddish center staring back,
its eye focused on mine.
i could love you,
i thought.
i could love you too,
it replied.
but theres a problem.
whats that kind sir?
you’re just a flower.
indeed i am kind sir.

petals as purple as dreams,
each one pulsing outward.
brighter and deeper
over and over,
showing off its beauty,
i smiled.
thank you.
this time not a thought,
but a whisper,
as i held it next to my lips,
sharing my life with it.
i breathed in deeply.
it too shared its life with me.
you’re welcome kind sir.
convinced i would take it from this place,
carry it with me all of my days.
i would have.
if i believed it could be as bright for me forever,
as it was in this moment.
i laid it down,
in a bed among the bright green grass.
its edges turned dark.
black as the night,
it spread inward among its pedals
to its beautiful red center.
each slowly crumpled,
turning to ash.
as it died,
like they all do.
i plucked another from the ground.
admiring it for a moment,
i looked inward.
my center bright as the sky,
hoping my edges would pulse,
like they did before i died.