yoursingingsatellite

In my dream I opened my eyes to see a light among shadow catch a glimpse of my face, peeking through cracks of evergreen shade. Brown eyes shining gold peering down at me, long hair tickling my skin soft lips caressing mine.

They found her in the room an hour later when dawn was breaking and the birds had fully woken, when rays of early morning peered in cracks through the shutters, light illuminating the sight of it all. Her face pale as death and the cold empty red-rimmed marbles that were her eyes, the dried tears that crusted its creases, smeared lipstick, dried vomit and the foam that oozed out of her chapped lips. Blood that had spread steadily from long ugly gashes marring her thin white wrists to form a pool in which she laid the side of her head. Her elaborate hair undone, thick pristine make-up smudged and cracked, lush waves of red and gold silk soiled

Her eyes that burned like fire- shards of ice that pierced the cold; deep and dark and old as earth- they buried alive the heart it stole that drowned alone in silent waters, lost in the wind fleeting gray skies; bolts of thunder jolting life all that meet her gazing eyes.

“John Brant,” I whispered, and a dashing British gentleman appeared in my mind, arrogant and suave as the slim-fitting Italian suit he wore. He sounded classy, not overly pompous. But there was just something about him. He could be the cool confident charmer I was looking for. But he could just as well be a stiff stocky soldier with his pride shoved far up his ass. “John Chase,” The name rolled smoothly off my tongue. Another man took form, both the same and different from the first. He was just as charming, perhaps a little lower in class with a bolder tongue. And was that a little mischief I saw in his eyes? Undoubt

curtains close, lights on the stage is empty.                                                what was magic reveals its greatest trick and still we are sitting waiting for the end.                                                we had laughed and we cried only when it’s over do we realize what                       was true, what wasn’t heroes become actors the characters we know⎯ strangers we                                                          never knew. out of sight, they take off ornamental masks and show who they                                                  truly are. some drink to get drunk. others in searc

fiona, maybe you are reading this message. maybe you aren’t. maybe you still think i’m a crazy old fool or maybe you regret deeming me so. but i cannot live here. i cannot. trapped in a place i don’t belong. they give me pills i don’t need and tell me nothing is real. don’t be sad or sorry. i have lived. i have fallen in love and out of it. as for the growing distance between us, it’s my fault. my fault i am different. my fault i can’t make you understand. go to our old house and in my room there is a key on the bottom drawer to the left. use the key to open a little red box in the attic. it’

“Nice day isn’t it?” “Yeah, it is.” The woman with the sad eyes has just strolled in through the closing doors, positioning them both in those awkward seconds of silence inside the familiar five by five space as they descended to the ground. There is no one else in the elevator today, just the two of them. He yawns. She clears her throat. They note that the music that hung over them is a bossa nova rendition of Michael Jackson’s greatest hits. In the few seconds that they are standing side by side they proceed with their daily ritual, attempting meaningless conversations to break the silence while they wa

Jamie died today. I don’t remember much about what had happened. Not much at all except the feel of his feverishly warm body thrusting against my own. The soft of his lips and the rough of his unshaven face, exploring the most sacred of places where only he⎯and he alone⎯was allowed to touch. I remember the rush of euphoria and colors dancing in my head, the sudden urge I had to show him how I loved him. And before that, screaming and pure hatred. The blow of his palm across my face. The strong smell of alcohol filling up the small dingy space of our one bedroom apartment. I remember the sharp sting of a cigarette butt wher

Stranger days have past since I found myself lost in blue and green eyes as volatile as strong tumultuous waves and deep as the silent water they tugged me into. Stranger days we live in since you barged in through guarded doors with no invitation but your brash and mighty ego, broken to the touch; and if all you wanted was attention, now you have mine, and only your bright and playful smile excused you from the rules you trashed, codes you’ve vandalized. Stranger days there will be since I saw the same darkness that dwells inside, this unrelenting force that unites us and destroys us both, this impurity and imperfection, chaotic tem