Posts Tagged ‘spilled ink’


Posted: September 12, 2016 in Stories, Uncategorized
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I fell asleep watching the flames, a smile spread across my tired face as I adjusted my pillow and slowly let my eyes close.
I dreamt of her then.

We had become the fire, light and shadow, dancing together. We chased away the demons of one another as we twirled and laughed, as we became escape. We were alive then, in that moment, happy.

I can still smell the lotion that was so feint you could only smell it when you nestled into her neck, I can still feel her hand in mine, the occasional chill when a strand of her hair brushed my cheek, the look in her eyes that said she was in the moment, not thinking about the past or the future, just taking in and experiencing the now.

The flames had long since vanished, only the dull glow of the coals remained as I awoke screaming, hands thrust deep into the coals and ashes, searching for her, for something. Tears ran trails through the soot that covered my face, my breath straining through the smoke.

As I pulled my burning hands from the coals I realized then that the Phoenix had long since departed. As pieces of burning flesh fell to the carpet I knew then that there was nothing left to save, nothing left to hold onto, and no fairytale ending waiting.

I fell asleep watching the flames, a smile spread across my tired face as I adjusted my pillow and slowly let my eyes close.
I dreamt of her then…


The Fayde

Posted: August 21, 2016 in Poetry
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There exists so much more
Behind that sly little smile
The explorer, the conquistador
Of written words, of a certain heart in exile
The audiophile
Who phantoms through the aisle
Turning pages of wizards and legends
As she quietly browses
Through Mogul Diamonds
The voice of a rebel banshee
Who awakens life when she sings
Chasing away completely
Deaths carefully concealed yearnings
As tears shimmer beautifully
In her eyes that sparkle
Like calm pools of ebony
Hands that have known hurt
That has felt their share of tremble
Still swift to subvert
A gentleman or a damsel
In distress or anxious revolt of introvert
Her soft caress calms quick
The dark discomfort
A creative spark that lingers
Lighting the way for castaways
Penned, pinned, perfected by fingers
Dancing delicately to make hideaways
For the world’s outcast creatures
Who are tired and saddened
By the ugliness of societies angry features
A timid beauty that wants to believe
The reflected perfection of beautiful
That both the mirror and we perceive
When she stands before us so hopeful
With downcast eyes that disbelieve
Just how radiant an absolute angel
She is to all that can simply see
Puns tumble from her tongue
Easing a moment of awkwardness
Taking the sting from the stung
With a wink of weirdness
Even the old giggle as the young
Remembering what it was like
To be free and leave behind the high-strung
With a blush, that begs a kiss
Skin that welcomes a caress
The princess of amiss
Carries forth in effortless
Abandon the remiss
Let us tangle in silken sheet bliss
Let the dawn turn to dusk then to dawn
In time limitless
Leaving no need to ever

Time Knows Not

Posted: August 11, 2016 in Poetry
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My heart like a lock still waits to be
Rusted through and broken open
It’s been years now since I’ve seen your smile
Forever since I’ve heard your laughter
Yet here I sit
Waiting for a miracle
Wishing you weren’t still and always
The perfect fit
The only key
And the last wish
From my whispered lips
Each night before I dream

Posted: June 8, 2016 in Poetry
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That’s nice of you to say
But I lost a whole family
In a single sunny day
Nothing left to tether
No purpose left to portray
I lost more than a mother
The day she passed away

I sat on a crooked bar stool, staring at an angel in the mirror behind the bar, and drooling over the thought of her walking by. Just close enough to catch a whiff of her shampoo, or maybe it would be her mom’s conditioner, I didn’t care. I don’t like to objectify women, but man, this girl had everything you could ever hope for. Legs, an ass, I mean everything!
I dropped my eyes to my beer in a moment of weakened confidence, well ok, so I did it to not get caught staring. I don’t wanna be labeled a pervert like that or anything, you know?
Anyhow, I didn’t hear an organ strike up as she stood, and I damn sure didn’t see the shifting light source in the bar as her halo lifted when she walked, but I’ve been telling George for years to get rid of the fucking Christmas lights in the bar. It dulls our defensive senses. That dumbass never listens though, and he wonders why there are so many glory holes in the bathroom stalls.
When she slid onto the barstool next to me, I damn near snapped my spine as I tried to straighten up and not look as pathetic as I was. She smiled shyly at me, so I mumbled, “Hey” as I wiped the sweat from my forehead and slicked back my hair with one hand. I’m a sly mother fucker that way.
“What do you do?” She asked.
“Me? I like to juggle 50 lbs. shake weights.” Well, I was gonna say it, but I may have just giggle farted awkwardly and shrugged, hoping she didn’t hear it.
“For work, I mean.” She clarified.
I casually motioned towards George by desperately flailing my arm in his direction. He poured a cheap shot glass full of some kind of courage and sat it in front of me.
I tossed it back like a pro, not even grimacing that much as I turned the 12 degrees or so that my barstool would allow and smiled, “I’m between jobs right now.”
“Oh, what did you do before?”
“I had a summer internship at the CIA,” I answered.
“Oh wow, what did you do there?” Her painted on eyebrows almost seemed to lift a little out of genuine curiosity.
I felt the muscles in my chest realign themselves into something bordering on impressive when her body language suggested she might be interested, or a prostitute. I didn’t really care which.
I struggled to look sober as I said, “I don’t actually know.”
“Oh, so it’s like classified?”
“No, no, I really don’t know. They paid me to go down to Mexico a couple of times and eat ice cream.”
Her interest dropped like the dentures of a bar fly in a bathroom stall occupied by a rock star.
“I may have killed a man though, I mean it is the CIA, nothing is as it seems.” I tried to gain back her interest.
“I always wondered, what does CIA stand for?”
I spun back around to face the bar as I held up a confident hand towards George and replied, “That’s classified.”

Some live in the dark
Where the mask can slip
Without a curious remark
Where a tear can silently drip
Without anyone questioning the pain
Where the anxious can hide
Waiting out the hurricane
Some live in the dark

Some live in the light
Spreading inspiration with a smile
Impervious to the snakebite
Of sorrow and exile
Some live in the light

We touch fingertips at twilight
Before we go our separate ways
I’ll look for you in the starlight
As I fight to live more days


Posted: January 17, 2016 in Poetry
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I miss the courage and reassurance
That used to flow from your fingertips
As you wrapped me in revelation
The way your glance could enhance
My aspiration for salvation
Your eyes the entrance to my own expanse
Our unification a collaboration
In intoxication
Lost together in premonition
So perfectly