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...