Awake in the World of the Sleeping |
I stare down toward the sleeping city of San Francisco. Its 615am--
morning for some, still night for most. The world is surrounded by
darkness. There is no moon, no sun, no stars, and no light. Pe...
Posted by on Tue, 04 Aug 2009 04:47:00 GMT |
Aged |
My body sways, ebbing and flowing in and out like the tide of some
foreign sea, crashing on the beaches of my life. The wooden chair
creeks, providing a melancholy melody which echoes throughout the...
Posted by on Tue, 04 Aug 2009 04:41:00 GMT |
2 |
Grab my hand I plea.
Okay! I call.
Hold on tight. old friend,
I wont let you fall.
I look down at myself
Itll all be okay.
But I know the truth,
I am slipping away.
I...
Posted by on Thu, 07 May 2009 21:11:00 GMT |
Love Tainted by Time |
I gaze into her hazelnut eyes; a moment in time where everything else,the noise, the problems, the world, are turned into dust and forced tofloat off into the oblivion much like pollen drifts away in ...
Posted by on Mon, 16 Mar 2009 02:09:00 GMT |
1 |
Help-i fell down againthe floor feelsso familiar-Help Me.Pain-i am Hurt againgod this feelsso familiar-more PainLost-Where Am I again?whys this feelso familiar?i'm Lost.Hurt-and Alone againit all fee...
Posted by on Mon, 09 Mar 2009 22:18:00 GMT |
Orchid |
The pen feels like a barbell between my fingers, like an anchor has fallen from my mind, down through the air and has rooted itself into the paper. I try to drag it along the lines the way an an...
Posted by on Tue, 16 Dec 2008 21:41:00 GMT |
Sunlight 1 and 2 |
Thoughts and things running through my head. Some of them are old, some new, some silly, some not. But the one which stands out most, is an image of you. An image which dances, yet haunts me. Roots pl...
Posted by on Sun, 23 Nov 2008 04:22:00 GMT |
Saturday Night |
The cool wind brushes my face, reminding me that it has the potential to bring me pain; reminding me that all the good things in life, the pure things, the things which give us life, have the potentia...
Posted by on Sat, 18 Oct 2008 22:43:00 GMT |
Lecture Hall, Day One |
I see a man on a lawnmower; his dumb head hangs limply toward his right shoulder, bobbing up and down like a dead body floating in the water. The track of his machine slices through the blades of gras...
Posted by on Sat, 18 Oct 2008 22:31:00 GMT |
Survival of the Fittest |
The radio plays. I roll over on my bed and glance at the satellite alarm clock which rests on my desk. It's 11. A fuzzy song rings through the air from an SF jazz station. I wonder if the composer has...
Posted by on Sat, 18 Oct 2008 22:13:00 GMT |
