Urban Ghosts

The man in the suit stares as I pass by. His grey coat blending into the surrounding walls, the only thing I can see is the warn smooth brown frame of the fake wood doorway beside him. I don’t see him, he has chosen to blend into his surroundings. The country people stare more than the city people. It comes from the small town, knowing people, recognizing, is that farmer brown’s son? Who is driving that new car, now the city people travel to the country and the country people stare. Stare they stare...

found.

I found something I had lost some time ago. It actually has no value at all to anyone but me. If you were to find it you would have no idea what it was, it might look out of place, or strange in the place where it was. But when I found it I gasped and said "oh man, oh wow". Probably one of the best things that has happened to me in awhile...

Rose

An hour after our conversation last night I found myself face to face with a six foot tall plastic pig. He was dressed in an apron, wearing a chef's hat, had his hoof on his hip and he was smiling seductively. Restaurant supply, I have found, is the most reliable place to start any search, But it occurred to me that before I commit a felony, get arrested and have to spend the better half of a day in jail for defacing public property outside Working Class, I should at least take you to dinner, a last meal if you will....You're wonderfully interesting; you talk a lot but that's all right because your smile is worth it. Besides being beautiful, I like your name.

As long as it lasts

They say that dreams are only real as long as they last. Couldn't you say the same thing about life? How do I know you even exist? Life is a matter of a miracle that is collected over time by moments flabbergasted to be in each others presence. I dream of being in your presence...

Jake's Bar March 14

He
cranks up the Jazz
cigarette smoke
swirls from his
hands.
The moment
is now.
He wants it.

Everybody left
besides you
besides him
on a Christmas
lit porch
in the
middle
of July.

With
no one but
God and
the Moon
to witness
your
presence.

Miss Regina's Lyrics

This is how it works
You're young until you're not
You love until you don't
You try until you can't
You laugh until you cry
You cry until you laugh
And everyone must breathe
Until their dying breath

For you, but mostly for me.

When I write, I am here, I am there, I am inside the story, I am inside your head as you read whatever I write, as I speak my words out loud to the room. As I describe being hit by a wave on a shore, my obsession with graveyards, my experiences falling in and out of love, these are all expressions of myself. Yes, they exist, and I may or may not have arranged them in a perfect pattern to make sense to you. I am drawn to writing as soon as i sense it, whether my location may be in any of these places I write about. And when it happens i feel momentarily invigorated, an orgasmic sense of something recognized and understood and captured, a reflection of myself.

Faction?

Today, I tricked the dryer into accepting a Canadian quarter, but something that really got me to me is that sometimes, late at night, I stand in my window with my kittehs and I watch all the cars drive through the busy intersection. I wonder where they're going at this late hour, who is with them, what their names are, and if I ever met them would they be potential characters in one of my stories. But tonight I mostly just wondered why I care and why I am awake staring at them at two in the morning wearing only my under-roos...

It confirmed my suspicion that I am really just a character in a badly written story, probably one of my own...

Dream Reminders

Nothing can
compare to
deserving
your dream.

Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am actually alive. I need to feel to make sure that I am still living and breathing. There are times I feel as if I am just participating, watching from the outside. But outside on my balcony, the frigid gusts slapping my face, my lungs filling with ice, I feel as if I could conquer the world. I feel alive. For this reason, I love the winter, because it lets me know that I am still here. It reminds me that the world inside my mind, however filled with wild ideas of philosophical stories and events that never existed [yet], can still be created. Can and do still exist. On any scale. Just don't try to weigh it.

melting beauty

They could have warned you
When things start
splitting at the seams and now
The whole thing's tumbling down.

The clouds were falling apart into tiny pieces. Thirsty for knowledge they had sucked up their fill and burst into millions of unrecognizable shapes which collected on the ground and on my car and in my hair. I became irritated, worried about driving conditions and serious health risks such as frost bite and being late to work. Now, looking back, if the sun hadn't been hitting the horizon at the precise angle at this certain time I would have over looked the beauty. But it was, and I stopped cleaning off my car and began staring at the millions of sparkles holding the Earth in place as if they were scared it would suddenly fall apart. And just as I felt it would have, I knew that everything would be okay. Everything repairs with time, as cliche as that may sound, it is true. And soon, in Spring, the snow will melt and the Earth will find something new to hold it together. Like me.

born from my brain..

I fell off the side of the Earth. My toes had dangled over the edge, but shaking with anticipation, my sweat reeking of the beer from the night before, I fell. The gravity caused the air to blow through the hair on my arms and I never once thought I was flying. I remembered a hallow conversation, my best friend John and my mother trading stories from their lives which no author would turn into a book. That was the night that they agreed that a gigantic shit was better than bad sex.



this is the beginning to my new short story...