Wildes Writing

Tim Wildes' Writing Portfolio


  • A Drop of Oil

    Tim Wildes What could be more sacred than the bond of elder to child? The trust towards one’s parent: love and admiration. Naught there be truly a force greater. Never be it more threatening than, to betray this sanctity. This parental condition is fragile. To harm one’s child, whether on a plane physical or mental, Continue reading

  • Man on the Bus

    Tim Wildes A man on the bus was speaking on the phone. He said the word “fired” quite loudly and we all looked over. It seems this was our innate pathological association of fire with danger. And we all looked, despite not knowing why. Despite the semantical difference, despite our differing classes and identities. I’m Continue reading

  • Ensemble Encore

    Tim Wildes Peoplekind – unbound and inordinate. There is no clear drive for us other than our own animalistic impulses or learned vanities. Regardless, we are a social creature. Empathy sponsors us – our greatest advisor. There is a sheen in the small acts of fraternity that bespeak us kin. The bid of a stranger’s Continue reading

  • A Pleasure, to Miss

    Tim Wildes Too often we lament over what is or will be: what was and what has always been. We never award ourselves a moment to reflect on our pasts in a light non-hateful- non-regretant. For this reason, we never appreciate something as profound as human: how lucky we are too have cherished something enough Continue reading

  • Aged Thing

    Tim Wildes I really don’t mind the passage of time. There’s a comfort in knowing all things come to an end – that every story has a close. It’s so beautiful that you could experience something for the last time and never know; that the last time you two will ever speak has already passed. Continue reading

  • Taft Ave.

    Tim Wildes I woke up today with spit on my chin and sweat down my back. My head hurts and I can’t smell anything. I was hungry and I needed to piss. Today was gonna be busy, I was going to see my friends. We’d all meet up in the forest, like we used to. Continue reading