You, Me & the Devils that Be
I will admit, sitting at the breakfast table watching you hold your queasy stomach felt like a conquest. Everyone busied themselves fetching you ibuprofen and gatorade, offering old wives tale remedies while I sat taking slow draws off my coffee. I secretly hoped your wife would come back to see you in your current state. … Continue reading “You, Me & the Devils that Be”
Sight on Scene
I felt the tears pool up and fall in rivulets down my temples. As I turned to my side I pulled the furry body pillow to my chest and buried my face in it. How could I be so naive? What would it have taken for me to leave? A raised voice? Physical violence? I … Continue reading “Sight on Scene”
Untitled Poem on Cocktail Napkin
You were in every moment now. In the elated pounding of my steering wheel on the way home from seeing you. In the pulsing in my head when the music in the bar drowned out all thoughts. In the rising tide in my eyes on nights spent in empty sheets. Waking life was now a … Continue reading “Untitled Poem on Cocktail Napkin”
A Slow Day in the Office
So I sit in my cubicle and cut off my split ends with some scissors I found in the filing cabinet. I have a restless energy. My email is strangely empty and without an onslaught of work I must resort to sitting with my feelings. Never. I put in my earbuds and listen to indie … Continue reading “A Slow Day in the Office”
Cubicle Existentialism
When did anomie become your Beelzebub? When did the nihilistic shadows in your mind take the shape of an archaic demon? Your God became a substitution for your art, a depthless void to pour your love out to. He is not listening. Perhaps he never was. You constructed a framework to systemize the spiritual behaviors … Continue reading “Cubicle Existentialism”
A Passive Cry Will Not Be Answered
The first time I set my pen to paper with intention was writing a poem to enter a school contest. It was sloppy and spoke poorly of my ability. But what it wasn’t was passive. In the poem I attempted to grapple with weighty topics that I as a 16-year-old did not know of. Reading … Continue reading “A Passive Cry Will Not Be Answered”
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