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Felix Da Costa Gomez

Felix Da Costa Gomez

Felix is a Canadian writer originally from Venezuela who is currently in his final year of an English degree and is the Vice President of Publications at Write Club. HIs dream is to become an author, which he plans to pursue more vigorously once he completes academic studies. Felix’s focus is on fiction pieces, with his latest work in progress being a Western trilogy set in both the American Northwest and Southwestern Canada spanning from the 1880s to the late 1910s. In addition to writing fiction, Felix has also recently discovered a newfound respect for poetry as an art form to express emotions, drawing on personal life experiences such as anarchy, reminiscence, and adolescent shenanigans.


Latest Writings


poetry

That's Not What That Word Means

Like the Bow River, flowing North to South,
empty whiskey bottles fall from North to South in
an explosion of broken glass and blanket lies.
Whiskey flows and burns the throat, everything flows.
Flowing is the root of it, the singular truth.

Written by
poetry

Cave Dweller

I used to think that being alone
was unbearable,
but now that I’ve pushed almost
every single person I’ve ever held dear
away from me,
I really don’t think it’s that bad

Written by
poetry

The Second Coming of J. Alfred Prufrock (To Love More Competently)

I snapped a picture of you the other day when you weren’t looking
capturing the entirety of your face
as you lay oblivious and a victim
incarcerating the elegant flare of
your cheekbones

Written by
poetry

Yeah I listen to Anarcho Punk, Why'd Ya Ask?

I went to college like a bird swimming
like a woman burning in the 1700s
or like an atheist rising
I cut my nails like a narcissist killing himself
as if I’m a vampire taking a stake to the heart

Written by
fiction

Philosophy and Peaches

He sat himself against a tree, looking out towards one of the natural clearances provided by mother nature and glanced at the trees as his fingers fumbled dents into the sides of the peach can. Pat was careful not to cut himself, cautiously increasing pressure until the top of the can collapsed in on itself in the shape of a dull crater.

Written by