Xanadu

Nichalos Campanelli IMG_5712.jpg

Undeafened

The stage lights shine down, glistening against my guitar that's resting lightly on its stand. The pulse of the floor, surely matching the beat of the music, slows. House lights begin to dim, and I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around, and a young woman is staring at me expectantly. Are you ready to go on? She mouths, and I nod. She smiles, and gives what I can only assume is a forced thank you before turning around and asking my band-mates the same thing. Within moments,

Untitled

After...I regretted everything immediately. Having lost… In a cramped… I felt...and empty inside. Not at all how I Expected to… Juvenile expectations of… put me in a situation where... and I got hurt. Since then everytime I think… my world goes into a stand still and... You are the ellipsis in my life. composed of all the ...I choose to forget. In three simple dots you stand mocking me. Encompassing the worst pain I have ever…

What Are You Running From?

Shattered glass rests on wooden floorboards as careful footsteps tiptoe around. The thick walls of mortar and cracked bricks a shield against the nighttime stars. The graffiti, a comfort in a chamber of solitude. This is your fortress, hidden from the word. Rot, rust, and mold enter your lungs, exhaled by a foggy breath. The cotton from a torn couch shifts as you crouch behind it, awaiting sirens searching for a trespasser. You cling to yourself, nails digging into your scarr

Love Lost

From a distance everything look right rides moving, music blasting. Stepping closer you smell freshly popped uneaten popcorn, See untouched plated full of food. Feel the loss of happiness, The emptiness. Rides are silently traveling down their tracks. No screams. No terror. The kids area is empty of giggles The innocence lost with the music still blasting, reminding you of time. Gates are closed, with an open sign still up

Poor Boy

The sweet scent of his body, his soft skin brushing against his arm, overrules the foolish child with emotions he has never known before. In the Garden of Eden, tempted by his beautiful imperfections, is it love this child feels? Is it lust? Why did he long for a bite of the forbidden fruit? Where were all these feelings coming from? He has known this boy all his life. Why is it today that he begins to have these thoughts? Confusion, anger, desire, compassion, and hate are mi

How He Let Her Go

the sleek smirnoff bottle slips from his shaking hands. its inevitable demise awaiting on the stained carpet below his stumbling feet. he reminisces about Her in the ticking seconds before shattering, how he shamefully abused and overused Her tenderness, Her innocence. he had broke Her, shattered Her very elusive existence at the hand of his spiraling and erratic behavior. in the final moments of the clear bottle remaining whole, the man can only think about the being he had

Grandpa's Cigar

A pinata hangs next to streamers and cellophane banners with Nemo playing in the background. Children fight over party favors and cookie wafers until they dye their t-shirts rainbow. The cramped dining room, filled with unfamiliar family. sings in unison the birthday song with wishes of wealth and good health until the short breath of the restless boy smothers the flame on the cake. He starts a new year seperated from you, with only a memory of your scent of smoke.

Paranormal

Ghosting through the corridor, transparent fingertips caressing old framed photos that I will no longer be a part of. The subtle smirk on the still photo serving as a cold reminder that there is nothing left that remains of me except frozen moments captured in candid photos. Yearning to find myself in this picture nailed on the wall, all that there is left to do is close my translucent eyes, and ponder what I would do or who I would be if I could only rise from my bed the fol

Walls

Each day new masses flow in. Familiar and unfamiliar faces disembark off the train, some to be seen, and others to remain unseen. Terror and confusion mark all new arrivals. Loud shouting in a foreign tongue herds them into groups over the crying pleas of the separated and distraught. Children from mothers. Husbands from wives. There is no asylum or sanctuary for anyone here. Here we are enclosed by walls that do not protect us. No amount of marching or shouting could bring o

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