Monthly Archives: March 2015

caged

A dark canvas littered with stars: the night. I can only see so much from here, the worn cage’s hook nestled in my left hand. It’s practically digging into my palm, the damn thing, threatening to break skin, and if … Continue reading

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terrorized

no bloodied halls will grant my entrance into a white future. i saw that filthy corridor that led to his impending torture while mine ended in only purity. at least filth can be scrubbed off with bare hands; red residue … Continue reading

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night terror

His hand could only hold onto mine for so much longer, I could feel it. I could feel the sweat threatening our connection, how his fingers were starting to slip further and further away from mine. Then, it was broken. … Continue reading

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pop

My eyes are burning from the new face-wash I just scrubbed into my pores. They’re red now – bubbles in my eyes.

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bookstore

there is no rival to that of walking into a bookstore. there is no concept of speed within those walls, only the leisure of staring at every author’s name scribbled on the fragile bindings. and then, when the titles of … Continue reading

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winged

the pond is so high its waves graze the clouds sloshing onto the blue ocean blue upon blue upon blue I lose my eyes in the movement menacingly serene, threatening the critters at a deathly pace cry to me, share … Continue reading

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831

I’m driving the wheel glides under my fingertips there goes a blue house, a red the local pizzeria is on the left a blood lab on the right and ahead, ahead is my inevitable home interesting how the air changes … Continue reading

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moitie

181 days who’d wish me one more day to stay with your glowing essence? I wish myself to do the deed, a gift not to you, but to myself. 4344 hours who’d wish me one more hour to cower between … Continue reading

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vexed

faces of purple, blue fill my vision and then I’m staring down the neck of a toilet its water: so clear, unperturbed it sits and waves leaving its condolences she is the only thing in my ears her uncanny ability … Continue reading

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A Different Take on the Rabbit-Hole

The old worn bar makes me nostalgic for my youth – the endless line of whiskey and coke chasers, the careless attempts of nonchalant grazes, the small vial of liquid to trip and stumble into anonymous glasses. I can’t help … Continue reading

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