i’m just here to remind you of the mess you left behind ( Read more... )

Have you ever thought about what life would be like if you hadn’t left?

“Don’t let go, Michael.” he says.

Cinching the skin on his back, your nails dig in as deep as they can.

Don’t let go.Do you remember staring at the rain: those liquid grenades descending and exploding on the gravel, the smell of dirt and wet pavement thick under your nose? ( Read more... )

Our current state of mind is like walking on eggshells in pitch back nonchalence. In one of the most gripping tales of mind control and aestheticism, the laws of gravity are defied when man sets foot on a tightrope. Meanwhile, we wonder whether or not the time machine really exists. We're already travelling time as we speak--although we can't go ( Read more... )

Never stop dreaming. I see so many people who are unidealistic and have lost sight of their dreams. And they’re boring. Not only that, but they’re probably also sad, whether they realize it or not ( Read more... )

The sky is much greyer in this story. Years ago, before Miranda ever took to the bottle, she was an aspiring musician. Her chords were always in perfect key, and people from all around would come to hear the girl with hair in half moons sing. They would sing along and succumb into her rhythms with manic dance. One day Jessica grew lost within this ( Read more... )

Miranda stepped in the knife-like grass, counting what continents lie on her legs. As expected, there weren't any. Today an unknown inhabitant of Troy saw a beige truck drive by, a stately man of six feet inside, red hair scorching azure eyes. Suddenly details I left out were remembered: the usual polo pulled over a plain T-Shirt, music now found ( Read more... )

Here we are inside this dance listening to Sting & The Police. The year is 1981. Strip away the shell from your egg carton eyes. Can't you see? The Astrology in her faulty footsteps tells everything. She makes compound words like second nature. When the tone grows low, the timbre solemn, the scent of gin and tonic grows obvious. We no longer have ( Read more... )

Get ready for the next episode.

People were sad. They formed a village and called it Happy Happy. Everything was painted blue: the houses, the cows, their clothes dyed blue. All was sweetness and lights until he saw a vision of children, dancing outside a chimney, rain beneath a silk curtain. From that point on Mr. Carpainter was a saint, a prophet, a messenger of God. His ( Read more... )

"I have a girlfriend now.” he said with a sheepish grin. You just nodded your head in acknowledgement, trying to act unphased by this latest revelation. You continued talking to him for as long as you could without crying or going psycho on him. When you arrived at your breaking point, you excused yourself to go to the restroom ( Read more... )