Random thoughts and that might or might not be coherent
‘Why do you write?’ is the question. Simple on the surface, but a can of worms underneath, and it is a question I am all too familiar with, and unreasonably troubled by. When I tell someone that I write, ‘What do you write?’ or its variations come first, followed closely by that three-letter interrogative inquest…
When you're still a little drunk, and the lust has faded, and the stark realization of what you've done comes like a crashing wave, then you feel the familiar hurt, which you know like you know the back of your hand once again, and the crashing wave pulls your eyes downward, and you feel the…
"It's not that I don't care. Don't you understand? Of course, I do. It's just, there are things in my life that I care about too, things that I need to care about, and I simply can't leave everything behind and let my life revolve around you, no matter how much I want to. You…
I leave the church, and I wander for a time through the chaos and the fire. The world that I knew, that I remember, is gone, like years had passed while I was still within, where time remains still, while the world moves ever onward, onto a hazy red rapture, always steady, never slowing, eating…
The rivers sing the odes of the ocean, and the breeze the lullabies of the trees. The winter sun remoulds the frozen figures of the night, and the mother shapes the child with her endless love. The gentle voice and touch of a beloved fans the glowing embers of a heart, and the love ignites…
After the fire dies and the embers turn to ash, after the simmering blood evaporates into air and all the tortures of the past revives the lost dreams of innocence, then maybe you will see the heart of life when you stare grief in its eyes.
As the century wore a new face and put on a different dress, no less motley than the last, A lonely boy between the sticks carried his bag of tricks and looked behind him, holding fast. Soon the walls grew tall around him and boys became men in a world of unforgiving passion, And the…
The road was smooth, the traffic was sparse, and the winds were cool in her hair. She eased on the accelerator. She wished it was as easy to slow her mind down. In her hurry and the anxiety to get everything done and done right, she never really gave much thought about anything that was…
He is bound by chafing ropes of dichotomized society—the howling screams of history assailing his resolutions while the serenading honeyed songs of promise and hope keeps him standing on his blistered feet upon the rumbling and tremoring rock that chips away every turn of the dial against the dispassion of the infinite might of universal…
It is quiet. Too quiet. I shout, but I only hear the echoes of my own voice answering me. This has happened before, many times, too many to count, and they all ended not with agony or death—how else would I be here? But this time, something feels different, something smells off. I pace around,…
Gutter Galley 