-
“Can you guess what I am now? A ZIT! Get it?”
I once started a food fightOf biblical proportionWhen I was 11.Think, the cafeteria sceneIn Animal House.Thats what we’re dealing with here.It was my brother’s fifteenth birthday party.My grandmother, who always aspired to be a caterer,Made a large and awe-inspiring cake. Of course, Our entire family attended the partyAnd looking back, I never knew howWe could… — read more
-
Nothing and Moonshine
The first time when I was asked to send nudesWas when I was 14.I, an anxious and reclusive freshman,Auditioned for the school play. I was awarded the part asThe love interest for the protagonist.Whenever he wouldHold my hand or kiss my cheek,My face would turn beat red andDearly, I tried to bite down a smile.The… — read more
-
Pretty Things
You’ve always had an eye forPretty things. You’ve plucked thePretty petals offPretty flowers,Watching them Descend and wilt by your feet.Too, have youPlucked pretty girls.Plucked the light from theirTheir pretty eyes.Plucked the warmth From their pretty smiles.Collecting pretty dreamersIn a glass jar.You pricked holes in the topAnd told the pretty girlsNot to worry their Pretty little… — read more
-
Reflection #1
Seagulls swarm above an empty parking lot, perpetually encircling a white mini van. The driver lazily tosses salted French fries out the window. I close my eyes to the sun dripping in from the windshield, desperately trying to remember the names of men I’ve once doted on. It’s a strange feeling, they were once the… — read more
-
Oblivion
The pastor’s daughter Once said that HeavenIs a childhood homeWhere loved ones awaityour return. I pray thatWhen I close my eyesFor all eternityI may open themAs a child,Crawling into my mother’s lapResting my head against her chest,Just beneath her chin.Quietly, listening toHer heart steadily beatAs she combs her slenderFingers through my long, brown hair. I… — read more
-
Hell Hath No Fury like a Woman Scorned (a poem)
How dare he. How fucking dare he?Reaching out as though we are old chums,Hoping to rekindle the hearth of a houseThat once burned down long ago. I still feel the ash and debris Lodged deep in my throat.My tongue, singed. Charred, grey. Sore. There is no vacancy here. “Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot… — read more
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Confessions of an Optimistic Pessimist 