The water bounces off my skin. I look on as each drop hits and spreads apart. I see people running away and screaming because of the downpour. I don’t mind the water. I look on and wonder what exactly is going on around me. I feel a sense of longing I haven’t felt for some
Tag: my writing
Spending hours in front of a screen designing your character, it has to be perfect. We look and take the best pictures, it has to be perfect. We then establish a persona to identify who we are to the digital world. But what is our avatar to the real world? I’ve had people tell me,
Let’s just stretch these old fingers here and crack some bones. *insert cracking noises* Another day, another night awake. I am amazed my body hasn’t completely shut down with all the abuse I’ve put it through in all of the years. Here I am, back at it again, about to be 3 am, eastern time
As a writer, the worlds I’ve created have become so developed that I now look on. The characters have their own stories, own ideas, they have far exceeded my imagination. Though I did, in fact, create it all, I’ve become an onlooker. I feel as if every author is aware of this. Your characters may
Kill me not with soft words from such lips. Having my soul engulfed by invigorating touch that reaches the long, forgotten, beating heart. Keep me buried if I am but a passing wind in a season of one’s choosing. I have yielded to such a cause that men seem to fall victim to. Why has
Bury me in a world of empty silence and it shall echo a resounding peace. Never wavering joy of unmatched darkness. Pulling depth to see an endless abyss caught by our gaze. Such space and time in infinite hold. The ever awaiting welcome, o death
Where do we go from here? Your mind remains restless upon years of emotions and thoughts you believe you will not escape from. Time seems to be at a standstill and you remain glued to the notion that it will not get better. Jump 2 days into the future, a year, a decade, now what?
Mountains rage through clouded storms. Forming deep in rivers ever flowing. Growing to find touches of illuminating strength. Tides of ever-changing embrace. Rising to meet new creation.
I once thought the alarm would be the reason for my waking. The sun striking my face and the gentle breeze from the ceiling fan brushes against my skin. Yet none of that woke me from the dream that held me in its hold. I could hear it, at first like a sweet melody though
A shiver ran down my spine. I could feel the gentle breeze and hear the rustling of the leaves. Sounds intertwined as all of stars filled the sky. The moon hanging in wait as it shun upon my face. Radiating a soft glow as the reflections wavered in the waters beneath me. I stood there,