The boots thrilled by the sound of footsteps nearing the closet doors. the box sprung open and with excitement He jumped higher than he thought. Eager to begin the night. So stiff and uneasy, until the soft feet slipped in putting the brand new pair of Justin's right in his comfort zone. The music, the people, the food is everything they've been waiting for this year. They dig and they dig, up the mountain try to find the perfect sport with the best view. Dancing and kicking
I can smell it—a stench of mold, old paper, and dark humors, wafting down the corridor as it takes slow, shuddering steps towards me. The empty eye sockets don't hinder its pursuit; its tongue, purple and vascular, lolls out of a jawless mouth. I shouldn't have come down here, but I had to know. I had to see for myself why my brother never came back up. I do know now, but little good that does me with my back against the rough stone, and fingers—too long, too slender, with sk
Venom dances on your tongue ready to slit my fragile skin, your mouth holding pretty daggers to my throat. There is nothing left for me to do but to apologize to your dark eyes as the blue sinks deep into my flesh and work into my veins, a poison that burns as it courses through my body, a flame that I have grown used to. Trapped in your bedroom, the door knob whispers my name, as they, too, even know about your toxins, And desperately beg for me to leave. But, the intimidati
You stand there, hunched over stacks of books and paper, mind whirring. The Vitruvian man is divinely created from your charcoal. Your workshop is flooded with sketches, spilling around your feet and pinned to the walls. Masterpieces overlapping with tested trials, I cannot tell the difference. Though even I can recognize The Last Supper. Beyond Christ and his disciples, I see the bluest skies. As he gives up his body and blood, you are up on the hilltop. The pillars of stone
I've always been running in circles to catch you. Round and round I go, to catch a glimpse of life- Happiness. Ever since I was young I would chase you, your son on your shoulders holding him high like he was he king of the world, with me left behind. Round and round I go. I tripped and fell, running after you. You laughed and pointed at me- leaving me behind. Forgotten. Round and round we go. I've always chased you for the love and devotion you give to your son. Round and ro
Meet the bodies. Anybody is above all, they are not necessarily smart, but will do anything, and leaves no man behind. Everybody is less ambitious, but likes group work and keeping everybody on the same page. Somebody is shy, quiet, not quite sure who they are. They're always searching for a new identity. Nobody is a hermit, locked away for good and only appears in the darkest of times. But while the Body's are all different, they do share one thing in common. Anyone can take
There is an almost religious clarity that occurs when she washes her hair. A comforting sanctity that both literally and figuratively washes over her. It's a type of baptism that serves as a rebirth, a cleansing of not only the body, but the mind. Giving a new start to the bleak and monotonous day. The water curtains over her, sanctimonious in its purity as it cleanses her hair and cascades down her battered body. Renewing and repairing split ends, and her splitting headache.
I find it in a prickly shrub—leather torn, discolored, and misshapen. Nearby, a patchy soccer field can be seen, the boundaries marked with indentations in the soft mud. Goals are represented by the gap between two leftover Coca-Cola cans. Its owner is nowhere in sight except for a trail of footprints leading towards a now inhabited village. I reach for it, as the minute daggers cut my unwashed hands. On it are two letters followed by a number written in crayon. The scorching
Fold unfold fold.
The faded paper, losing its color from the constant poking and prodding. Its once bright
love filled color now lost. He put his love and devotion into every fold and crevice
Fold unfold fold.
He folded each piece with the precision of a jigsaw puzzle and yet it never quite fit.
Fold unfold fold.
The day he gave it to her. The devotion in her eyes. It started a fire in both him and the
girl—their first kiss, their first night together. It gave
It was a basketball
towards the hoop.
The clock ticking down
getting closer and closer to the buzzer,
awaiting the celebration of the victor.
The sweat dripping off the players
while the final play is being ran,
the bright lights showing it off.
The slow dribble of the ball
bouncing up and down
off the hard wooden floor.
The shot goes up…
the ball swishing
waiting to return to its home