For my books, please go to Books Eight years ago, I was working and living in Spain, and at some point got really emo about the whole being away from home thing. I wrote this (which I re-posted with some edits) and it’s an honest feeling and reflection of that time. —— All settled in…
No fall air was cool enough. No comfort found in words. Every little sound in the soulless night was a sinking hole. But their words… those words against the screen screamed like deep red blood. Seen by the blind, a voice heard by the deaf, mind read by the nescient. A nonexistent heart beat that…
In the sky a bird rejoiced. We say they sing for rain. One of those things you almost miss because you looked away. Always looking down, scrolling to no end, while in front of us a sublime scenery takes shape and form. I say to myself, let’s just walk; no music, no browsing, no talking,…
Faceless. Like time itself, endless. Walking away from trouble until again it finds me. Words evaporate in the air, talking is pointless. To be ignored once deserves no merit. To be ignored twice is a warning sign. Be ignored seven times and it’s time to retract, back up, analyze. Just what are you doing standing…
When the wind is breathless, the raindrops loud, and the trees swing from side to side; midnight The tender whisper of a loved one’s voice over a scary story at bedtime; midnight Through white curtains peek a speck of light, may be from a star, may be the tired street lamps; midnight A kiss feels…
Pretty face to please all the masses lower, middle, and upper classes But they can’t tell from outside my glasses what are wrinkles and what are wet lashes I find it hard to say the words that trap themselves in my mind Secretly wondering behind the curtains Is it okay to hide behind these blinds?…
An ounce of care would be nice from them you shower with awes, allow to eat your bread, take up unearned space in your shed Who knew flesh and bones could hurt so and leave you at the mercy of time that never seems to change a thing no matter how much of it’s passed…
Sunday work in the morning breeze. Sushi made with cheese Autoimmune disease Monolinguals in these seven seas Prepubescents all over IG Your name on everything but my caller ID Good intentions going quietly People sitting down when the DJ drops the beat Our twisted version of democracy Disregard of right to privacy Girl on girl…
Writing this with my eyes closed, wanting to keep trapped the thoughts that might slip through the cracks when I look away, out in space. Nothing is kind anymore. Not the sound of night, not the air I breathe, not the light I see hurting my eyes like a splash from the salty sea. In…
I guess it is in my head where destiny has decided to write your name. Forever wondering about the day when it’ll no longer be it or why I have no say. Doesn’t matter if I move north or south; you’re still one of those memories that stand tall and proud. And I can’t, for…
How is a story born? A story is born… When we do things we shouldn’t do. When you look at me the way you do. When he pays hush money for his sin. When the doctor calls about your skin. When you fall for me before her eyes. When despite the lies you have butterflies….
Sign language is an artistic way of communication that not all of us can interpret, nor master. Isn’t that the same reason that not all of us can read signs—as in, metaphorically? Red flags aren’t always red; green lights aren’t always green; and sore points aren’t even visible.  Science says humans are at the top…