I nearly gag.
We're collectively shivering.
Teeth chattering.
Yet we're laughing.
I stop myself gagging and keep smiling because this is good.
Everything is good.
Life
Is
Good.
Here, on this deserted beach.
The small waves lapping against our little blue dingy.
Rocking from side to side.
Your dad pulling us.
Out to the rocks.
We topple out one after the other.
Our feet cutting on mussels.
We break the clusters and fill our bucket.
My skin prickly with goose...

Nagoya, August. Heaven’s rays bludgeon the cement, which radiates infernal heat in counterattack. I am one of the unfortunate souls caught in the siege, breathing in air bleeding with moisture. A car pulls up beside me. The driver's wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, mask, and gloves to the elbow to protect her skin against the sun’s relentless advances. She lowers her sunglasses, revealing pores heavily powdered with disapproval. “Darling, your skirt’s too short... thought I’d let you know.” I smile...

The instant I reunited with James, I knew his heart had died. Ever since he’d left to fight in that place called Afghanistan, my dog’s soul had ached, counting the seconds till I could fling my paws around him, nuzzle and lick him. We’d wrestle, play fetch, stargaze on the porch—together again. Now, five years later, he’d returned war-ravaged. Legs missing, eyes bitter, face grimacing, but still my master, my friend. Whimpering, flinging myself against him, I felt him...

The instant I reunited with James, I knew his heart had died. Ever since he’d left to fight in that place called Afghanistan, my dog’s soul had ached, counting the seconds till I could fling my paws around him, nuzzle and lick him. We’d wrestle, play fetch, stargaze on the porch—together again. Now, five years later, he’d returned war-ravaged. Legs missing, eyes bitter, face grimacing, but still my master, my friend. Whimpering, flinging myself against him, I felt him...

love, thesaurus definition:
synonymous for throwing rocks at the window
of the dying house in the woods just to hear
something besides myself. to look at the 
broken glass on the ground and think, 
"that's me." there is a metaphor here
somewhere, but don't try to find it.

when i see my phone light up with your
name, i am a thesaurus definition of the crickets in
the meadow past your house: noise, blast, buzz,
clamor, crash, cry. you'll...

The wreckage was still out there somewhere, hungrily lapping up flames and torturing those who tried to conquer it. A frail man with a bloodied face passed by me, the orange gurney under him soaking in the clotting crimson. Is that what she would look like? I held my gaze on a woman being rushed into the ER. I could've sworn I saw broken bits of teeth and skull sticking through the dark skin. I felt sick to my stomach ...

It was the night before Enereal's 16th birthday. She was cleaning her room before coming across a letter in a beige envelope. The envelope had her dad's name on it. Sadly her father past when she was a baby. This was the only thing he left her. The envelope read 'Open On Your 16th.' She was eager to open it, but she couldn't.

While daydreaming, she smelt something unpleasing. She stepped into the kitchen, which was filled with ashes and...

   peel away the sky / blue silk that once draped over me with beauty / now i look up and see grey nothingness / blending into every other dull thing in this world

hurt me with every unspoken word / cuts through my imagination with a shiny blade / because it's sound isn't even part of my memory / those eyes that have captured the chlorophyll in every leaf and left me bewitched / those eyes turn away from...

It was the day before Enereal's 16th birthday. She was cleaning her room before coming across an envelope. The envelope had her dad's name on it. Her father past away when she was a baby. The envelope read 'Open On Your 16th,' Enereal kept glancing at the envelope eager to open it, but she couldn't bring herself to open it.

While daydreaming, she smelt something unpleasing. She stepped into the kitchen , which was filled with ashes and smoke. Wothout...

Almost heaven 
The world outside seems like utopia
The good times we had seem like forever 
My sobs for
The open surroundings
The fresh findings
The majesty of trees
The sunset freeze
The sound of flies
The loud cries
The pleasant days
 And Our old ways