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Chemical dependency. Two words meant to describe her entire life; tragedy and promises and lazy Sunday afternoons compressed down into seven syllables and nonchalant judgment. Excuses not to pick up her calls or acknowledge her on the street. Eyes that used to meet hers now wandering to the shoelaces dragging on the pavement or the changing…[Read more]

She had always been partial to the eccentric; to the hiss of the steam engine, the florescent neon reflections of city signs, the crackle and pop between your laugh, the silhouette of a departing lover. These were the things that gathered on her like moss on a fallen oak; so many tiny details, immaculate constellations of goosebumps on her skin -…[Read more]

It’s like a reboot, every time. The wound is reopened and it’s fresh and it’s bleeding and it’s raw and it’s screaming at me that this is the last time, I can’t do this anymore. And it’s hard enough to know we do this again and again, that we climb onto this carousel even though we know it’ll just make us sick.

I just want things to be…[Read more]

Part Two

How does it work

It works best in the hushed stillness of midnight, with the low howl of wind curling through the trees beyond my window. It works most efficiently in the center of activity, with the electrical pulse of life humming all around me, pushing me harder, faster, longer. It works meticulously when it’s not supposed to be…[Read more]

She moved and her shadow shifted like refracted light in her wake; trembling and diaphanous, moving the way partially solidified smoke curls, the way it stretches out sinewy fingers to orbit pockets of air. He knew it was getting late, but watching the way she danced on the edge of the fountain absorbed all of his doubts and dispersed them into…[Read more]

Yesterday, when the tide of ennui and malaise threatened to lock around my ankles, I plopped down into the wet sand and let the chill of discontent have me. To fight seemed like such an empty battle: why should one fight against her own nature? To punch a mirror will only bloody up my own knuckles.

And bring me seven years of bad luck,…[Read more]

I’m going to show you what comes from the darkness, but don’t be frightened.
Close your eyes.
That shiver of anticipation prickles the hair on the back of your neck, your heartbeat increases until it’s a rhythm reverberating between your eardrums.
Shadows are no different than beams of light, it’s a trick of sight, a trick of your…[Read more]

There are things I will never admit aloud to anyone. Things that only my scribbled confessions could contain; entire worlds of truth that no one will ever hear a whisper of. I store them inside of me like a black hole in my chest, swirling and gurgling and eternally hungry. I see this void in the pits of my eyes, trapped in the galaxy of my…[Read more]

The phantoms of memories follow me in a single-file line. I can hear the muffled buzz and hum of their static communication; the way they rustle and flicker in the warm spring breeze. Isolated holograms of illusions and distorted context, they blink in and out, in and out. Framed in listlessness and abandoned shards of contrition, arranged with…[Read more]

Some nights, I want to be more honest. I want to open my veins and let the words form organically, to fill the page and free my thoughts from the binds of an internal diatribe. Too many words scatter in my head like tumbleweeds taken by a strong wind – vanishing from the plain of my awareness with only the lingering howl of a storm to remind me…[Read more]