1. Why are you in my dreams?

  2. September Mornings

    It is a gentle breeze through the window that coaxes me
    to awake from my slumber. I can hear the sounds of Autumn,
    trees awakening and leaves tumbling through the cool fall air.
    Perhaps, today will be a day that I remain in my bed, and watch
    as the sun slowly makes it way to its rightful place in the sky.

    How I long to be free! I wish I were a bird in mid-flight, or a
    butterfly emerging from its chrysalis slumber, a tiger in patient
    pursuit of its prey. I dream of mountain side forests that threaten
    to lose you within its foliage, of caves that tunnel through dormant
    volcanos that used to rule the lands with its power. 

    What a fine day it is today!
    The sun is bright,
    the air is sweet,
    the wind is gentle and cool,
    and the world is asleep.
    One day, I shall awake.
    And so too, will the world. 

  3. yeah

    There was a dull grey light coming in through his window. it crept below the blinds and illuminated his room in shadows that stayed still in somber silence. there was nothing in his room but a bed and a small table with an old watch case turned ashtray, filled with cigarette butts and joint roaches. 

    He turned to me said “Hey now idiot boy. Sometimes you think you are the man, but never do you think that you are something else. “

    "What do you mean, Mr. Shadow, you are but a figment of my imagination." I replied. "Perhaps if I snapped my fingers and clicked my heels you would disappear or transform into a snake, but if I have to wait for the right time, the opportune time, it would be now."

    And so he left me all alone, in a room with illegitimate shadows, bodiless beings that burrowed deep into the conscience, creating masquerades and carnival like activities. They stole the beer, they smoked all the cigars, lighting up for one last one. They wreaked havoc on his livelihood, his legacy. He turned to the woman next to him and gave her a kiss. There was zero correlation between the life of that woman, and these shadows, but it was something that had to be said and done. S

  4. Visions

    I closed my eyes and saw a peculiar vision. There was a dying hill, the grass was brown and burnt, and there was nothing living on it. There were no flowers, no little creatures scurrying around, not even minuscule bugs living under the looming blades of grass. I looked to where the hill met the sky and saw a blinding light and all of a sudden life blossomed. The grass turned green and abundant, flowers bloomed and the animals thrived. What was once a dead hill, had become life. 

  5. Slivers

    One day as a child, I was playing with broken branches and a sliver embedded itself in my hand. No matter how hard I tried to remove it, it remained under my skin and continued to dig deeper and deeper until finally, it had entered into my bloodstream. I did not think much of the sliver and eventually I forgot about it as the pain subdued. Years later, it would find its way to my heart, sucking away at my life source. It began to grow roots that followed the intricate map of arteries and veins and as the roots grew, the sliver also grew, until it overtook my whole body and I imploded from within. The sliver remained, now a tree, attached to my still beating heart. 

  6. Eternity

    The lights dim as if Im not even here. 
    Cant they hear the ball bouncing,
    The shoes squeaking,
    Quick feet blowing 
    past imaginary skyscrapers?
    A flick of the wrist and the ball floats through the air. 
    Cant you hear the threads of the net whispering?
    Boom boom swish
    These moments are bliss.

  7. Peaches

    From the East came a man whose face was shallow and dark,
    His ears drooped and his eyes were sunken,
    And his chest so thin you could see his heart.
    Before he fell to his knees to die,
    He told me of his life
    I listened and cried and quietly obliged
    when he asked me to cut him down.

  8. The City

    The other night I dreamt of the most beautiful city in the world, built over a river whose current lay still. The waters glimmered black, and the reflections from the illuminated windows of the skyscrapers created an illusion of a night sky. I was alone. I swam through the river until I reached a window, close enough to the waters that I could peek into it.

    There was a man who sat at a table all alone. He cried as he stared at the flame of an old candle that had dwindled down to its last few flickers. There was a sudden surge of sadness and the man began to weep, crumpling his head into his arms on the oak table. The flame on the candle shuddered, and the light in the window was gone and once again I was alone in the city.


  9. feeling really bitter right now

    i made it, i made it, you’re fake and i hate it
    where were you when i didnt think that i would make it,
    basic basic, im in it for survival and my instinct instinct
    is to say fuck it, i guess i wasn’t worth it, worth it

  10. random

    nostalgia is the feeling of what
    we can never obtain, glimpses of hope
    of feeling the purest of emotions…
    she reminds me of…
    this place…
    what do these things represent?
    what is this feeling of nostalgia,
    a feeling so imminent, trying to
    convey to me, something about this world,
    this life. i look at the mountains, the northern
    faces of sheer grandeur and i long for a world
    that i never knew
    never seen
    never even heard of.

  11. And a voice came from my heart,
    speaking to me, within.
    She told me I was alone,
    but this moment would not last forever.

  12. we just some tree city legends, i got lost in time
    i pray to see heaven every time that i rhyme
    and if i die before i defeat the fake and wicked
    take the mic out of my hand and keep killin it
    -denizen kane

  13. lay

    the deceiver meets his match. 
    plans hatched to kill the one
    with weak eyes.
    her disfigured figure, a testament
    to the cruelty of providence,
    sighed with every bent hip,
    clouded knees pitted against
    the dark soil of the mother.
    her bones creak, crack, snap
    the wind can take her away
    but she doesn’t sway.  

  14. basketball on the floor
    sitting next to the door
    basketball on the floor

  15. 12:29

    the walls speak to me
    clearly and obediently
    as if they existed merely
    for my pleasure. their wit
    is cunning and quick, their
    anger is swift and their tears
    run freely. the words they speak
    are majestic, forcing me to
    cling on to every blessed syllable
    and rhyme. but all they are, are
    fucking walls… maybe i’m just going