Flashy

In Reverie

Lost in a trance, isolated moments hold me together. I write in fragments, obscuring subjects, emphasizing actions, resenting adjectives and articles too. “Bird flew home.” Don’t care if you know the color, size, texture, variety. Just know it flew on its own volition. That’s the only thing that seems true.

Fifteen Minutes

Strolling, felt Jasmine, soft and brightly lit. Not to be confused with the muffled waves of lavender lurking hours behind it. It was too early for a celestial lavender mood. Steps preceding glances, the movement of strangers parting. No one is immune to the energy of the mid-day sun, straining to be noticed in the fragrant day.

Eventually

I’ll tear it off eventually. Although it is mine, I feel no allegiance to it; I honor no misplaced alliances. Technically, it’s the outsider not a part of me. On it's own, it changes, grows thicker, thinner. Conspicuously on the outside, it is merely a casing for a mangled sausage of blood and bones. The glossy cover on a poorly organized book of stories, nothing about it intimates the bizarre anthology within.