The sky outside was a listless grey… and wet; drenched in fact. It was as if the entire whole of the world’s rooftop were drowning in water. That coalesced moisture, cold and overflowing, was spilling down onto the upturned ground saturating it like a soiled dish cloth.

“What a horrible, muddy, grey, dreary, cheerless,” the girl stopped a moment to wring her brain out for another slew of synonyms, “blah, depressing, humdrum day.” She tried to smile at her clear mastery of “the adjective,” but little could bring happiness on a day such as today.

Though, upon closer consideration, it was really more than just today that was causing her such distress. A single day of sunless mirth could be endured; two or three could be overcome with some effort, but an entire week? Surely in the whole history of the world, no one had ever had to suffer through seven long melancholy bleak days like she had. She didn’t wish to alarm anyone, but she was beginning to fear that the color would be stolen from the earth for forever. Continue reading »

Are not but ever wish to be.

Lured away by the hope and desire of greener pastures, sucked as though an ant through an enormous vacuum hose into the depths that inevitably lead to despair. Swirling out of control via choices made while in a state of contentment is inconceivable. Wrongly finding fault in the complacency that settled warmly on top is a mere excuse.

Such an obvious ploy that would cruelly wrench the heart oblivious to any void while creating the vile shame of foolishness in falling victim to such charms. Crushed, exposed, and aching with the regret of ill-fated folly. So deservedly a vulnerable heart sliced ever so delicately by the very fine paper of which it once craved, leaving the sharp, insistent reminder of pain slowly draining that very heart…now empty, cold and dry.

Time…friend or foe? Never to be erased. Never to be changed. Forever written as is. Covered with “if only’s“. Hindsight – good for nothing - so useless an existence in its pointless happenstance, leaving only forgiveness as the option for undoing someone else’s inconsiderate idiocy. Continue reading »

Angela Madison closed her eyes and let the water scald her skin. Tiny little fists beat hard against her, kneading their way over the contours of her body. The tension in her muscles eased. Her heart slowly began to subdue to a quieter rhythm. Even the anger subsided, a little. A kind of hollow lethargy circled within her like the steam dancing and rising in the shower. She reluctantly surrendered a sigh. Water trickled into her mouth and she noted its sweet, empty flavor. She opened her eyes to watch translucent beads assemble in little streams and trickle down the shower walls. She was so tired. So tired of being tired.

Continue reading »

“Fuck this! I’m wasting my time down here. ‘Cuff ‘em both,” Flannigan sighed, coupled with a near belch.

“What?” Tim nearly tripped himself getting up. His right foot was tucked under his left knee. It did not come free easily as the adrenaline surging through his muscles forced him to stumble dumbfoundedly. One of the uniforms steadied and then restrained him from getting too excited, pushing him back down onto the bed next to Cassie.

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She wore “naked” like a shield; and as she stood there challenging the spring darkness from the 3rd floor balcony of the Hôtel La Bourdonnais, I fell in love with her.

I could see the night slip its fingers around the soft contour of her hips and the wind wrestle the loose strands of her hair from the knot she had tied it in. I breathed in the warmth of Paris, the scent of her flesh, and the remnants of our passion. For a brief eternity, I caught and held the corner of her resplendent cobalt eyes before she turned once again to the lights across the Parc du Champs. Earlier I had traced those same lines down between her shoulders and past the small of her back. Yet my fingers had lied, because I was certain that the ridges of her spine were soft, warm. I can see now that they are hard as the iron that she rests her arms against. Continue reading »

That I should find myself buried within an entombment of snow and ice is fitting.

My heart is frozen and the grey bleak landscape threatens to swallow whatever utterance of joy might still cling to my withering soul. This life which was afforded to me is meaningless, tiresome, and all together too much bother to carry on with.
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I hate fucking people.

Why do I always get stuck with the crack heads and dipshits?

“Are you even listening to me?!?”

” ‘I was like oh my fucking god (was that little ‘g’ or a big ‘G’?), the blood, it was fucking everywhere man…’ does that sound about right Mrs. Harmon?”

“It was a big ‘G’ asshole , and it’s Bentley, we ain’t married yet,” replied Cassie looking over at Tim. Continue reading »

There is an unambiguous taste to dirt. Its flavor so distinct, so well defined that without any previous experience one can with the utmost certainty identify it. What most fail to realize is that not all soil shares the same savoriness. There is a soft rich peat to topsoil (a touch of ginger perhaps) and a harsh saltiness found in grains of common sand. Sadly, it’s these finer subtleties that are lost on, shall we say, less selective palates. Continue reading »

Time slipping away
No one seems to be here much
Winter will bring more?

~~Hope writing is on the winter agenda!~~

Unadorned Person
Silent existence today
Thoughts resting tranquil