All posts tagged: narrative

And Maybe…. Mystery

I point my ears to the farthest tree and listen to the needles sway and sing, like a nursery song remembered from childhood. I’m thinking about mending, about restoring, about the remedy of words. Dusk settles and my thoughts inch toward alone-ness. When I sit on the suburban steps staring out at the particulates and angels hidden in the ashes of cigarettes, I think of the soul, of how, maybe it smells like the dampness of rain and if it can be mended. A soul who exists in autonomy, hermiting against the waking world. Content to watch the seeds separate and sow, to watch the birds bend back their beaks in this August heat. The truth is: we exist only inside ourselves, our souls are dormant and our real selves, unactualized. Often times, we are only ever half a real person. We whisper ourselves to sleep and drown in stagnant waters, warm, and maybe even comfortable. And, so, the words we use to sooth ourselves begin to ring true; we listen without question, without second …

Of Hell & High-Rises

There are no words to explain that alone feeling I get when sitting outside on my steps looking unto the alleyways in the bleak-half darkness, the lights of the city combating that of the moon’s own glow. Stray cats run and meow, meow, in fights and dart across the landings, their shadows cast in a higher statue than they’d ever be in day. I watch the smoke rise high from my fingers, I breathe in and out the cold. An ambulance leeches by, and bums lurk seeking shelter under the rooftops that I silently watch them from, taking it all in. Rustic, pissed on grandeur. Cables cross like Hindu lines of ancient texts across the sky; old sneakers dangle from them like youthful suicide. A Ford Focus lurches in front, her headlights menacing, break my romanticized gaze, and here I am again, in nothing but my 21st century reality where everything is candy coated vomit, shined, plastered, and spun into something of ‘value.’ There is no lesson to be learned from this, there is no …