Screaming Skies

It is after all, just a life. No bigger, no better. I have breathed more shades, more pain, more joy, more crazy, more fear, more sadness than I thought possible to carry in this one body. Death, song and daydreaming are my respites; temporary escapes from this swirling madness. I inhale deeply, the rich, sweet smells of nature flooding my senses. Music coursing the veins like venom. I wait for

Petals of Passion

I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.

Mirror Mirror

Mirror Mirror This body of mine carried me through days of sophisticated lies and ambition. This body of mine has been home to shame, trials and tribulations. This body of mine has known love and felt all woman. But, this body of mine cannot and does not coexist without the messy, chaotic, beautiful, strong mind pushing forward walking her through a new, more experienced chapter. Onward in these bizarre times,

caught-crossfire

Caught in the Crossfire

I am told the brain feels no pain, no pressure. That is only half-truth. I have experienced a different reality; never exposed to screaming silence quite like this. I’m scared out of my mind imploding from the inside. I make ballsy, hasty decisions to beat down the bullshit, chemical imbalance. Humiliated, I lie alone on a gurney, port in my arm, the tacky acrid green plastic band too tight around my

Sideways Dreams

Sideways Dreams I love it when the clouds swirl and swish about in different directions, knocking angrily against each other in the sky. The clean open sky that I can now lay on the ground and watch free and clear, no city buildings in sight. I have no clue what tomorrow will bring. I am paralyzed and in awe, the possibilities endless. There are few things I know, and few

Carny Days

 Carny Days What difference do the mad genes make when everyone is running? The speed of my thoughts makes up for the snail pace of the body. I pray one will balance out the other. The monotony of the same old, boring tedious routine gives structure to the wandering head. The walkabout has come to a screeching halt; words escape me, unsure of the new pace. Diamonds dance and stars