She was ironically beautiful, like a gasoline rainbow. I have found this to be the truest truth: beauty comes in all forms, but the kind of beauty that changes you somewhere inside always comes in the shape of a gasoline rainbow. The kind of rainbow you see in a gas station at two o’clock in the morning with your heart weighed heavy with secrets and loss and your soul burdened with regret. The kind of rainbow that smells...

I have a weakness for pretty girls named Isabel. Not Isabelle, with two l’s slashing through words like paper cuts, nor Isabella, who’s softer sound makes me think of meek and doe-eyed children. Isadora is acceptable, but not preferable. Isabel is the perfect blend of all of these, a gentle tongue-caressing name that swirls around my mouth like pink candy, leaving the taste of sweet sugar on my lips and the scent of child...

I am the way the story ends. I am the blackness before dawn and the midnight rage of sleepless dreamers. I am the bleeding soul and the homeless god and the condemning of an angel. I am a virtuous sinner, a story without words, the blood on the pavement, the razor blade in the bathtub, hatred without reason and love with logic; I am. I am the words of a poem they forgot to write and the ink of a run-dry pen and the apolog...

lying awake light flooding from under the crack in the door voices starting at a whisper, slowly growing louder till they escalate so much I can hear them in my fevered dreams midnight already, but the storm hasn’t even begun woken up by another fight that I have not partaken in “open the door isabelle” “please, for the love of god, open the door” “open it or I’ll kick it in” I tried to block them out once, bought earplug...

Can you miss something you have never had? Do the pigeons desire the thumbs, the hands, we swear by, that have gotten us so far? Do they feel its absence as strongly as they feel the sun on their back? Do the fish miss the lungs that allow the animals to roam Earth’s bountiful jewels ever more beautiful, whilst they perish in the filth of their vices? Do the good long to be bad, in the same way that black longs to be whit...

“Would you like me to leave?” she asks, face turned towards mine, eyes hidden underneath a pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses like she’s afraid of seeing what’s really out there. Some days I wonder if she dreams in sepia-tinted images, light filtering through her drug-addled mind in the same way sunlight falls on plastic screens. “That’s all right, Maddy,” I say slowly, but at the same time I almost do want to be alone. I...

Underneath my exterior that tries to convince the world that yeah, I’m tough as fucking nails, there lies that same frightened child, who still hears her screams and pleads for mercy, the same time, every night, begging for him to leave her alone. But every night he haunts her nightmares, her fevered insomniac dreams, which threaten to consume her in their flames. She can still taste him on her, and it’s been a hundred ye...

Curls of red and holes instead Lay where eyes should be; Glasses hid the shame of the Kid Who’d never been able to see. Kid was small, the shortest of all The ones in high school that year So they chuckled and leered and he trembled and feared The wrath if they saw his tears. Dreams of sight filled him ‘til morning light In his nightmares he was Lord; But waking hours and sightless showers Brought him back from skies he’d...

I don't wanna go to bed I'm playing the Sims 3 I don't wanna go to bed I'd rather attack a tree. I don't wanna go to school. I'll have to sit and listen! I don't wanna go to school. I'd rather go be christened.I don't wanna do my homework. Why can't I go to bed?I don't wanna do my homework. I'd rather hide my head. I don't wanna go to soccer. I can't play to save my life. I don't wanna go to soccer. I'd rather eat a knife...

There was kid who always hid From his parent's furious yells He stayed at places where he knew no faces And his alarm clock was the bells. His name was short and gave him a fort From the troubles day to day When children teased he always thanked and pleased Never knowing what else to say. His hair was brown and he had a frown  From the worries he had to commence His eyes were blue – a beautiful hue And were his only defen...

the rich are getting richer the poor are getting poorer sorrow is a field of dead gems contrite as you walk away they fall out of sight snatch away the light as you rise to greater heights and you forget from whence you hail the memories become stale your childhood was never a fail; it was just another tale. wealth is not everything, Pride Before The Fall, in fact, it is nothing at all poverty is just another wall and it...

I can see her out of the corner of my eye, but she doesn’t realize it. Maybe she does, actually, now that I reflect on it; but it’s an unspoken rule that she speaks first, and that I answer the inevitable with an air of surprise. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” There it is. There it is again, the one question that no matter what day of the week it is or what month or year or even how I’m feeling; I will always lie to the ques...

The most vivid memory I can recall from all of my years as a truck driver was one lonely December morning, all alone on the outback – well, that's what I called it anyhow – with the wind whistling through the trees and the snow all falling around me, chains on the tires, windshield frosted over: and then her, popping out of the fog like she was an angel, lips streaked with violet, golden hair whipping around her face, and...

A lone figure by the end of the world I watch the sunlight dip below glowing horizons waves splashing onto sand of silvery white wind rushing like it has somewhere to go I don't. The bold waves breach my solitary confinement brought on by my own foolishness, of course another argument to store in the back of my mind bring out later on to use for my own nefarious purposes. The surf slithers up to my ankles, a chilly remind...

nameless she stalks the cage of her shadow a predator a hunter waiting to pounce on the fringes of reality blurring the lines she cannot remember from whence she came or to where she is headed she feeds on the sins and fevered dreams of childhood's end forgetting, sometimes that her own blatant hopes burned in the flames she now consumes and they taste sweet as arsenic on her tongue as she devours them blood dripping from...