Another college assignment story. This one I based on two girls I knew my senior year of high school. One was...a weirdo. The other was unfortunately targeted, one of those victims of kids who are carelessly mean. My professor also didn't like this story. Got only a B for it. Frog Girl Orchestra was a … Continue reading Frog Girl
Tell me, skyscraper, How do I look from up there? I, one of many, Who can’t touch your clean air? Do you even bother To lean your shadow aside To not crush the ants That walk at your side? Tell me, sky scraper, With your brow in the clouds, Why do you bother To care … Continue reading Skyscraper
It's been a while, but I think this story was inspired by a girl I knew back in college. I'd known her since high school, along with the boy she liked. She wasn't...a terribly easy person to get along with, despite her outgoing personality (though that somehow made it harder, like she was Bruce from … Continue reading Make’n Pretty
I just really liked the idea of writing a story where the main character is best friends with death. I don't necessarily see death as a scary thing, maybe because I have a mental disease that's gotten me close and personal with suicide or because I'm fairly religious. I also, at the time of writing … Continue reading My Friend Death
In a moment I will hear the chimes of a familial porch I've never been, where the sun warms a spot just for me on the lap of a gentle Father. Dig deep, dig far, close the door on all the noise. Pull me to where no one goes. There, Father waits, to pat my … Continue reading Hear the Chimes
Maybe I can bloom into my imagined homes of green gardens and gentle streams filed with jewels for the pleasure of little hands. Precious hands. May I walk among those waters to offer glittering light to the wonder of my little loves? Come. May I call you ‘precious’ and love all your happy times and … Continue reading Crazy House Poem #3
It’s hard to think deeply unsettled as shells half-baked and empty on the sand. Only fingers can change my view. Otherwise, I can only wait the eons between high and low sea tides. Even then, no life hangs to my sides, though it was life that I came to be.
I’m sure, once a cloud drifted through asleep on drafts of dreams, warmed by dangerous desert lands where the hungry ground eats clouds for life. But in that brief cool morning, when sun was kind and vicious lands asleep, the fog turned golden, alive in delight that the warm dream could come true.
Those who have reached the dream cry hope, while those who grow old in the gray light of poverty shake their heads. So shake me loose. Where is the middle ground? Or is this overcast life it? They say dreams are fickle, corrupting, even. As much to peel you back for spoils as to give … Continue reading The Worth of Dreams
I crouch in a dark room. Sun closed off. Sky closed off. Curtains, keep all sight away, because my chest is painfully tight and a hole is burning through me for no reason, and it blisters against the thoughts screaming "Why?" But there's really no answer to that. Or an answer too large to hold, … Continue reading Off Kilter