A Trip to the Corner Store
Like an undertone in a song, any echo of a noise carries voices that can be heard if one pays particularly close attention and has a desire for the truth. They come from the whining ceiling light, flickering on and off, and they come from the vents circulating musty air. It is easy to hear
All the Colors of the Moon
all the colors of the Moon bluish, blackish, blue: in the eyes of a heart fractured and aching with the turn of a strange machine. rise on a pillar of sand stardust sweeps by Your bruised face Your lip, cut by the jagged edge of a local supernova. “hi” my rib
i am afraid of holes
i am afraid of holes. i googled what that meant, but She just looked at me with sad eyes. “why do you wanna know?” oh. that’s okay. my ligaments didn’t matter anyway. my muscles were temporary! (they grow back, you know.) “naivete is a diagnosable condition” She said “you’re going to need
A Whole Lot of Love Poetry
If I were to weigh the scales would you come closer? just a little? If I weighed them in your favor gave you the power Or would you stay where you are there gently complacent placid patient You always are If I gave you my name what would it amount to against yours against
We Have Victory
MADNESS faded backs away slumps to the ground stares shakes I can’t I know. It’s wrong. we shouldn’t be here. we are. terrible scene, It’s like stories, really mattered darkness danger you didn’t want to be happy? the world the way bad had happened? (CONTINUED) We
