The winding vines tighten around the heart fluttering, bird-like and fit to burst. Heady hours flicker like Kodachrome through the projector in my head. Over and over the film slides, sticking on those little moments, shared smiles, discreet glances, the ponderings of a mad man over the weight of the mug, the value of words, and a warm touch. Intricacies burn holes into my mind the color of your eyes, the chilling space i...

The skies are star-bright to the symphonies and I hurt. I ache, I've smeared my heart on the ground gladly that the world might see its streaks and judge them art. I hardly know what they are anymore. I touch, I feel, I feel like screaming, but is it enough? Is it ever enough? Things burn. I burn. I am ashes, the grit in my mouth a stain I cannot ignore. I love, beyond myself and my means. I wrap my heart around things ti...

If you were quiet enough, you might hear the heartbeat of each flake as it hits its sea of brethren. You could be so light of foot that you might sense the shiver of the snow itself, nestling into the crevasses and nooks of every tree and root. So cold you would be that the breath in front of your face would no longer obscure your vision, its warmth a clash of two dichotomies, the complex construction of frozen atoms, and...