Your face was as translucent as a pink jellyfish, I could see the blue veins running beneath the surface like hi-ways covering a road map. The bones of your skull looked surprisingly supple, as if they could be molded with the pressure of my hands, my DNA splayed onto your flesh like spilled wine. Your eyes were a vortex, deep and dizzying and I could not look into them without a fear of disappearing completely from this world. ______________________________________________________ Shared on One Shot Wednesday. Continue reading DreamWorld, The Beginning

All I want on a Sunday morning is to luxuriate in my laziness. I want to watch old movies with the volume turned up loud, the newspaper crackling as I shift my supine body on the couch, the words of duplicitous politicians and photos of narcissistic socialites mashed under my ass. I want to gaze out my window where heat rises on the street like steam from a gumbo pot while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball, in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails a color called Bad Influence. I would sip Southern Wedding Cake coffee … Continue reading Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

Jasmine tea, sweet in the bowl. Its’ aroma drifts across the table to where you sit perusing the morning paper, the samurai hidden beneath reading glasses and the passage of night. At the clink of the cup in its’ saucer, your eyes lift to meet mine. We share a smile as our day begins, the essence of the night between us, ours alone. ___________________________ Shared on Poets United. Continue reading Warrior and Flower