Pillow Talk

You cannot escape truth when talking across a pillow. Delirious comfort leaves no space for fear. If there was a banking system for time, for moments, for getting back what we’ve lost, I would invest all these empty hours I bleed out introspectively on a page for a few voiceless words whispered across the pillow from … More Pillow Talk

Jazz in the Attic

All day I have been hearing jazz faintly playing in my room. It does not seep through the wall nor does it rise from the chambers below. The riffs are generated within my mind. My ears glimpse phantom sound waves—unseen, invisible. Their nonexistence will startle me any longer. For I am a music box of … More Jazz in the Attic

Penned Out

Ideas, once inked in permanence, are now buried beneath an ever-growing, pixelated timeline. (Is it so much different than having them closed between bound pages and set up on rarely visited bookshelf, the stacks in the library surrounded by thin carpet tread upon no longer?) They are suffering silent agony in the bottom of a … More Penned Out