Unseasonably Warm

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I am summer’s multiple flavors;

white and airy and floating,

black and wet and passionately hungry,

brown and murky and rushing unchallenged.

I am summer in the midst of

the blue lit and dry striking winter.

I am an 80 degree day in late February;

triumphant as an eccentricity of nature,

loved dishonestly and only briefly.


In Living Color

In Living Color

Red lips.

Blue eyes.

Purple streaks

Throughout my hair.

Yellow baby doll tee

Orange polka dot socks

Green pair of panties

On the floor.

I wonder if that is all he sees

In color when he looks at me.

Mercy for the Reaper

I met him on the corner of Second and Main

One afternoon, walking home from nowhere.

He stood so still, I tried not to stare.

Benjamin Knight, military sniper, code-name Reaper.

In his voice I heard dark rooms filled with secret deserts

And the sound of bones breaking from

The mercenary desolation of subsisting.

But in his eyes I saw the shadows, darker than any nightmare,

Splinter around the dreams he keeps locked away.




I hate to admit that some days I think I’m invisible.

At my core I’m introverted and admittedly

Sometimes I come across as anti-social;

But what else am I to think

When even my imaginary friends

Stop talking to me?