VibrantDaze

The date was October 4 th , 2017. The rain misted the light atop the taxi cab as it sped toward its destination in the crowded city of Los Angeles, and the woman in he backseat stared out of the window with a pale face that mirrored the glass with trails of dried tears. A cat sat in her lap purring anxiously, as if she too was aware of where they were headed and why. Held tightly to the woman's chest was a notebook whose pages had been filled with many works of poetry over the years. She hugged it to her chest as if her very life depended on the very ink stained fibers that made up its being. As the lights passing by and the sound of other ca

It was a cold frigid November afternoon; the grayness of the sky and the florescence of the snow accentuated the dark skeletal forms of the trees that stood at varying intervals along Main Street. The two of us walked together that day hand-in-hand as we traversed our way to Ten Club Park, though on the way we would talk of earlier days and ones yet to follow. Every now and then a passerby would hear a laugh coming from the two who walked together each providing a welcome refuge from the cold with for the other; my arm around her shoulder, hers around my waist. It wasn't long before we reached the bridge transcending the now frozen surface of

I followed Jennifer into the choir room, our footfalls resonating off of it's acoustic-accommodating walls. "Wait here," she said running into a back room to fetch her accompanist. "Yeah, sure," I mumbled as she ran through the door already out of earshot. While she was gone I took this moment to survey the room; risers adorned with chairs of red plastic seats and silvery metal legs, two odd paintings hung on the wall near the door through which I'd entered above the white board at the front of the room were awards from many years for accomplishments that escape me at the moment. I turned away from the door Jennifer had gone through and tur

I Hungrily they stare with their pale and sightless eyes. They lure you toward your decimation with faux facades as their disguise. With whispered promises their anger steals away into your fragile paper heart. Barring tooth and claw they leave your insides torn apart. II Still you stand on failing limbs as they stare with no remorse, much less compassion. They ghost in all around you in a most phantasmal fiendish fashion. Whispered lies and snickers play across their water colored faces. Among these blurring nightmares you of people belong not here of all places. III Blackened ink stained vines rise and bind you at their feet. A

When your brightness wanes as lighter -that of day- gains, be patient and hold your tongue. For when the bright of dawn, -its song sung- drops from view, its absence gives way to the light of you. And though the lunar sphere, in you tries to summon fear, it too soon will disappear. Though held to both you're not as bright, there is one truth of day and night; that the Sun may rule the east, and the moon the west, you my Star rule all of the rest. The Sun burns through the day. The Moon waxes through the night. But in turn they will smother each other's light. Your light however, is constant overhead, for you'll still set the sky afl

Born of blood, and born of bite, A tainted romance, denied by right. Two very different beings of night. Four lips meet under cover of night. Whispered goodbyes, and an endless embrace, As swift the departure, so swift is the chase.

She sat above me, the sun and leaves in her hair. I lied below her, through a steadied camra's lense I stared. Apples strewn about around me, one half eaten in my hand, She beckoned for her fruit and at her words I of course obliged to stand. Though getting up too quickly, not on two feet but on one knee, I found myself kneeling before her apple in hand outstretched, as one would do if he proposed. Without thought I asked my love "Will you eccept my apple?" But she just laughed and took it from me, One day I hope that she would answer "yes," and that when that day comes, she knows.

I live in a Dead Town, where most are dead or dying. The dying roam the streets, the dead flood them with their festering carnage. People are born here to simply die. No one is missed, all are forgotten. Not me. I live in Dead Town, but remember the dead, I am there to miss them, but there is someplace else in this Dead Town. A place where the fire from the skies, the rain of blood, cannot soak and the howls of the damned devouring each other cannot be heard. There is a place, where life exists. There is a door, a door in this town that belongs to no building, and has no frame to hold it up. It is hidden in an abandoned park in dead town, "10

Still shirtless I stare into the mirror deep in thought, that same question still resonant in the sound receptors in my cerebral cortex; "What does she see in me?...." Yes its stupid to always think this, but when you've spent your life being told you're nothing you tend to believe the voices that so relentlessly batter you with hurtful memories and words whose stabs are bullets that rival any and all sticks and stones. I brush out my hair hating that it no longer hides my face from the cruelness of the world toward which I now venture, and catch myself on the frame of the door and walk back to the bathroom. There on the sink counter is the c