I hear the words rambling in my head before I think of a paper to grab. They start with a whisper, a mere thought, wandering compulsively around my head. I cringe, defend then be defeated by the contractions of an idea to birth. I hear the words. They talk to…

The flashers ticked rhymingly with the pouring rain. The night was spread in the sky with such frustration the rain wouldn’t stop pouring. Ticking, cluttering, and drizzling down the trunk, the cracked windows, sparkling with a loose electric fuse, doming over the gray cloud steaming off the hood. How did…

Why do I feel the pain in your handshake? Why do I sense the obscurity in your eyes? Had the world done you wrong? Or is it the enchantment of self that left you astray? Stranger, I must tell you a secret And you mustn’t even…

It is an ordinary insignificant day, sitting at a coffee shop early in the morning with nothing but my insomniac body. My weary self leading its way out of the subtle daily chores, to have a calm morning coffee, preferably black. The situation reminds me of how the coffee keeps…

It started with black. The poetic color people always grieved upon. I looked at myself in the mirror and I couldn’t see myself through the cloth of black linen folded across my face. The hat, however, like that of the royals was well picked. I didn’t even search for my…

“Pull the trigger.” He shouted desperately, his face drenched with tears and pouring rain. “Fucking kill me!” He screamed falling to his knees. It was ironic how the act of kneeling could have such contrasting concepts between a believer and a pagan. The rain was piercing through his face as…

People were standing around with their pale indifferent faces, staring at the portrait ahead of them as though they were contemplating a failing artist. Not much there to see, only a fading image of a fading perspective. They watched the portrait, couldn’t quite articulate if they reached the observation level…

The intercom red light was on a constant buzz, glowing with an urgency of a ticking grenade. It was a slow day at work, a casual for a Friday. The gloominess of a September afternoon gave away the weekend vibe, Dr. Melissa didn’t even hint at the almost burning out…

I told him the story would grow old and they wouldn’t know. I told him, With a melancholic smile and profuse sorrow. Our world will forget about us. He hesitated and told me to walk him home, under the yellow streetlights, at quarter past twelve — if time even mattered. …