Xanadu
 

Again and again- It’s almost dizzying. Sunday afternoons, A time of dread, a time of unease. Sitting patiently up against the soft...

Her edges are curved. Tulips are the pattern of her dress. Her bottom curves out, while the top is narrow. She truly is a sight to see. ...

My soul is a paradox seeking happiness yet rejecting the good. Seeing the good but accepting the bad. Full of knowledge while being fully...

Reaching for a brush, I grab the small misshapen one. The handle Slightly loose And the bristles out of line. Oil pigments Taken from...

I never really liked the rain — I never had a reason to. It made my two-sizes-too-big t-shirt stick to my skin. It made my legs itchy and...

You are a curator of art, of love, and of loved things, wandering down these asphalt aisles under the beating, unrelenting sun. With a...

It bleeds Slightly. The pigment Fills the cracks In the corner of my eyes. I put it on to divert From the cracks. I see my reflection. I...

The glistening, white precipitation falling from the sky, Each flake more complex than the one lying under it. Dancing around the yard...

The blaring alarm screams in agony as the throbbing brain beats in symphony. Windows illuminate a yellow haze while the curtains wave...

In the halls the people pass, Not a care for their surroundings— It circles. Similar styles, similar interests, But where do I belong?...