It closes and closes
On the tiniest tip of my tounge sits a memory.
A mere pinprick of smoke and skin,
and a sweet wetness that will stay with me always.
Every pinkish tastebud is our moment of grace,
our moment of tastes.

On the drooping black power ( Read more... )

The Great Uneven

4:30 am, Monday morning. There is a hum. A persisting hum of electricity, of industry that stands alone while everyone sleeps, or restlessly toils in sleep's absence. Physical pain dictates that I bear witness to this transitionary period between the night and day, the hustle and bustle. Above me, above the hum, the sky is dotted ( Read more... )

Towards September ( Read more... )

I can't get the smell of bleach off my hands or out of my mind. I was trying to bleach a paint stain out of a dress I want to sell when I carelessly spilled Clorox all over my hands. My skin reeked of it and I was reminded of Mila. She always smelled of bleach and freesia lotion. Mila was my nanny who lived with us for several years. My mother was ( Read more... )

San Francisco has been racked by an oppressive heat that blankets the city and all of its' inhabitants. Everything feels slower and much more deliberate. Like the sweat on my upper lip. It forms slowly, it forms deliberately, it tastes salty. The pores in my skin ooze salt and my fingers are swollen and pudgy. Swollen pudgy fingers type these ( Read more... )

Insecurity is a funny thing. Sometimes it’s a sneaky creature, slowly and steadily chipping away at your confidence until you are a whittled-down human toothpick. Other times, it’s abrupt and abrasive, smashing you into tiny shards of irreparable person. Recently, I’ve been suffering from insecurity of the human-toothpick variety; a consistent and ( Read more... )

Standing Up to Repression and Fear: The Real War on Terror ( Read more... )

*Apple Antics ( Read more... )

"And loneliness. I should say something of loneliness. The panic, the sweeping hysteria that comes not when you are without others, but when you are without yourself, adrift. I should describe the filthy province of mind, the blighted district inside, the place so crowded you cannot raise the lids of your eyes. Your shoulders are drawn and your ( Read more... )

*Krengjai ( Read more... )