writing

Nomad

Standing in the dark, a heavy weight on my back, a light pushes past me, a hum of the heater all around me, a sad and lonely hearts hangs within, a smile eeks out, slowly spreading out of my thoughts, it’s just me, no one to hold, no one hug, no one to love, the …

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Armchair

Legs crossed, a light stays on at the entrance opposite me, sitting in this armchair shrouded by the night. Face dimly lit by that off cast. The A/C whirrs above me and below me. Returned I have from standing almost two hours. Watching the sun set through the camera’s faithful time-lapse capture. Engines rumble past …

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Sadness

I felt like writing something today as I went to check the mail. I hadn’t written visually in a while and this came to mind after a hot shower. It’s not much but I was able to pull this emotional feeling from a friend’s passing last year. Sadness. A friend passed. Sleep comes quickly. The …

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Sickly beings

There sits a house shrouded by trees. The eyes occasionally open, dim and close from morning to evening. Inside, the furniture changes its course by day. Dishes strewn from room to room, a dishwasher always full. A robed father sits in his chair, sometimes gauntly leaning over a computer. No one dares touch him because …

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Golden Flayed Thistles

Golden yellow and fire orange, three water-soluble paint gallon cans. One tattered, unkempt T-shirt and busting-at-the-seams, faded blue jeans. Barefooted with a flayed, thistle brush, standing in my new workshop, deciding which walls will exude Skittles-like rays of happiness.