United States

In the hopes that I live every day of my life.

Message from Writer

I write to create something out of nothing. Let me conjure a world of my own and sit on its throne. Maybe one day I'll learn to share it, but for now, I'm living off of high hopes.


October 16, 2018


Climbing too far and too tall with hands scraped with rope burn, I diddle-daddle. I think, and then I decrescendo until I diminuendo to nada. My eyes reach for the dimpled lights embedded into the evening sky. Bitten by the cold, my ass rests atop the rope. I need to balance. If I fall, I’ll have wooden needles to catch me. Hush! My mind chopped to blank. Mindless thoughts set ablaze (a fire!) with blurry smoke, moving fast but not processed. Thoughts zoom on highways until the eyes don’t see but look—the mind doesn’t think but buzz. Buzzing as the roaches buzz, the bees in my mind scare me ‘cause I don’t see the buzzing bees.  Cleaning or just shoving it all aside, the sickness is loud and pounding. You can’t delete it, but you can stuff clouds over it—stifle it. Stifled skies breathe my breaths in and out. I’m far away. I can’t feel me. Nothing tingles. Nothing hurts. I look, I smell, I feel. I realize- “I can’t think my thoughts.”              


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