"Character": It's who we are when nobody's watching.
mirror a reflection of guarded truth, seeking legacy with perfect imbalance missing time made whole with the virtues of another life addled by emotion’s punch-drunk fit for “quest” and “pursuit” the secret breathes in the shadows where “glimpse” and “question” taunt the naked wanderer honesty feigns reason while desire burns at the gates of Elysian [...]
catfish cons kill flatline blues • living the dream in a basecamp ruse a backside shine where the tempo is set • blowing smoke at the mirrors while feasting in debt jet setter trends bred in knock-off threads • pawning gold laced fiction born in burning beds castles built out of styrofoam blocks • gracing [...]
reconstructing the dust making a memory to satisfy a moment and hoping it'll last forever awkward in birth, unreliable in life, dying without wisdom – never to forget sincerity isn't eccentric honesty isn't the fool's sacrificing a thousand empty minutes for the chance to taste the innocence of one unscripted experience offering pleasure for pain [...]
caged distance rules a failing will when possible is improbable and the excuse becomes the experience and the experience lives in the dream maddening thoughts, bold in one breath, thin in the other blades in the sun, iron spikes in the rain opportunity at every un-knocked door stars still fall, candles are blown cold, eye [...]
musings stampeding through a wretched mind, with vibrance, fleeting into a lifeless abyss resonant memories living in a dying thought, captive to the race of existing for a moment a slave to the rush of nevermore aching for release by the written word swallowed with a tick devoured by the tock they no longer [...]
in the moments between fire and ash lives the smoke of memories and dreams surreal and undefined – the nothingness breathes, and everything is a vibrant shade of white and gray it's where "barren" is an empty canvas and limitations are of the past when the flame owned the match and burned [...]
the far edge dusk lives at the far edge of the horizon where the etchings of experience are lain carved before eternity experience lives in the cracks of the weathered and speaks with intangible understanding a glance that is timeless – spoken but not said some – some were born knowing some were born [...]
Leaves of Grass in Black and White Sometimes I have mornings like this, where I reach for some reading material… a newspaper… a magazine… a book (rarely a novel)… something to jog my brain. My deepest thoughts come in the morning, first thing. I'm usually very deep first thing, actually. I humor my dark side [...]
