Lately my past has been visiting me in my dreams. Images of people and reoccuring emotions that I haven't experienced for so long now. When I wake up, they feel so distant. It's not that I've changed so drastically since then, I've just become more of who I am, a more concentrated version of myself. Ha, thinking to myself that more impurities have ( Read more... )

each step on the footpath, the beat of a drum ( Read more... )

upon looking it appeared as urgent as the light at the end of the tunnel ( Read more... )

"The wall is too high to climb," he said, looking at me, like I would have the answer that would help him scale the height. I was sitting against that wall, down in the ravine, I'd already given up trying to climb it. The sense of loss and exile gripped me and I had no desire to do anything other than sit there, pulling my knees against my chest, ( Read more... )

the staccato song of the ceiling fan sings me to wake
weary and restless battle it out behind my forehead
consciousness peels away in layers like blankets
when my feet get cold I pull for more covers

words are overrated
feelings, underestimated

Music is my closest confidant in this transition period. No one else will see these things or hear what needs to be said. My stealth bomber floats along the rural stretches, consuming the length of the road, fueling and driving my thoughts, my emotions. Changing like the leaves, burning out until only the brittle skeleton is left, quickly crumbles ( Read more... )

In bed last night, waiting for the dreams to come, the smell of season's change streamed in from outside. The scent reminded me of summer mornings, the kind between school years where every moment is savored like tastes and smells that vanish so quickly. This change is into autumn, but for some reason each change has a similar scent. Wordless/ ( Read more... )

outside my window the forest burns ( Read more... )

saw your face today it made me angry ( Read more... )

reviewing the rolodex of past things said ( Read more... )