A short story—

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A class assignment, a 1-2 page short story/prose.

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It would never be an unlikely circumstance that Mrs. Pin and Mr. Samstook would be sitting on the same park bench at the same time, on almost any weekday. A park is a nice place to have a bench — a little place of quiet in a larger place of quiet. 

    As it would never b...

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This was an assignment for a class to produce an unreliable narrator. Super difficult for me to do. But I had fun with it! 

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I got here a little early, because you should always get places a little early. You never know what’s going to happen. Well, sometimes you do, but when it’s snowing out, and it’s cold, an...

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When jealousy turns love into a sting, 
Transparency shows hate and passioned will.
World turns to red and happiness to nothing;
Come safety cannot when she aims to kill.

Screech now, my whispered insecurities, 
For everything that is her is pain.
Her walk of treachery -- him to his knees. 
My most important loss to be her gain. 

My heart is full of fight and bitter burn,
With choice ...

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Faking, faking...
And neglecting, squelching the life beneath you
Which lashes and slashes to break through burning solitary;
Hate clawed and trapped by vicious resentment and exasperation.

He’s grasping for relief, crying for compunction,
Desperate to offer what you should provide.
He’s pressing, pushing, pressing -- arms go limp
For invisible walls cannot be moved.

Your fear and jeal...

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Stare treading at roundabout bites untouched, considering kicks, saying:

"Santa tried a robust brew underneath crunches kindly surfacing."

Somehow, to act rightly brings unlikely, crusty K-mart silence.

Sing to another regal bird? Unintended comments kid, shallowly.

Strength tonight accentuates red breath until common kills slice

swiftly tomorrow's actions. Rediculous, because ugly ...

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I'm drawn to musicians

And musicians are drawn to themselves

And that's just the way it is. 

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I moved your old letter

From my old jacket

Into my new jacket

You're still with me 

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I had a picture in my head of a scene unfolding one day when I was journaling, and jotted some details down. I have no idea what's happening, in what way the narrator betrayed this "Dye," but I felt like sharing regardless. Very rough, but hopefully you get something out of it! 

(So much angst).

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Dye

    “I’m sorry,” I said over and over, s...

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If you're a musician

Then you probably

Have issues with your parents.

If you're a poet

Then you probably

Like musicians.

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