I find peace in being self aware rather than trying to decide if there is something bigger than me out there. So when Poe writes about Annabel Lee and her tomb in the sea, or when Heathcliff begs Cathy at the tree to haunt him, I see my own face in varying guises of the … Continue reading She looked for something higher but found herself instead
To the red head in the window. I didn't see your face, as well as I would have liked. But, my being on the street and you in a second floor window, staring just didn't seem right. But, it was 7am and the sun was rising and there we were, two red heads alike, already … Continue reading What woke you?
I cannot hear the birds like I can in the other room, Just the low refrigerator hum, Yet the sun shines far brighter in here, Reflected in the sud-less leftover dish water, As milk clouds permeate the smooth brown liquid. It is comforting to feel the warmth On my face, hands and the tip of … Continue reading A Cup of Tea
The warmth of a hand dryer provides solace, unheard of perhaps but slipping into solitary quietude seems only possible when staring at chipped, lack lustre white paint with dirty green peeping through. Pushing human life away, repressing, mid eventful day feet firmly planted in the ground, linoleum sticking. Sure, they're clunky and awkward, been visited … Continue reading An Ode to Hand Dryers