Something muttered 4 years back
Talk is cheap these days
The voice is so near
But a fortune couldn’t reach that extra inch
To make it come alive again

A picture on the wall
I stared at it for years
And wished that it would go away
Now it’s gone
I’d give the world for one more look

Alone with my thoughts again
A fragmented picture of Life
Never fully reached my view
Probably never will
But I carry every part at all times.



Stick to me
After all, it’s just your skin
And you could wash me
If that’s how you prefer things.


Internet guy, hey
Stop playing words with friends now
Fix my connection.

I live in the trees
Right by the freeway car noise
I pretend it’s ocean.

Rock hard, like granite
A shell like cold steel, skin tough
Damn avocado.

Erica, hey girl.
Write me a haiku please friend.
Happy Haikuesday!


You can still see the outline of where she fell. A faint glow in the distance. Embers from a dying pyre. She had been cast out for her mind, but it was her spirit that persevered. We don’t know where she is, but it is clear where she landed. Stark yet delicate, her mark remains. A canopy of cobwebs, strewn across the forest floor.


I wanted to be surrounded by a forbidden shade
No one paints their room red
You cannot easily find red carpets or lamp shades or curtains in the store
People frown if you tell them it’s what you want
Such a bright color isn’t “tasteful”, not for a home
Not for the place that you come home to every day and share with others
But I did it anyway. Against everyone’s advice.
I put on an old shirt and I poured the paint in the pan
Tore a soft new roller out of its wrapping
Doused its cream-colored newness in the thick crimson
And pushed the first stroke against the white plaster with all my might
Forced with both arms the screaming viscous color onto the surface
No one would help me destroy the space I call my own
So I gladly do it on my own.
I brushed my forehead with my forearm, sweating now
Job about half way done
Already I notice the paint coagulating in the corners
Darker streaks than what I’d planned
Impulse can be awfully messy