it's time to try something different, i think...

she sits on the worn rug and watches the fire slowly burn itself out.

golden sunlight molten on the horizon

free-falling... (so incredibly cliched and loved and hated all at once)

it's not me- it's the monster you've created.

honestly?

all-american boys make me question what america is all about... and he is so (under)cover(ed up).

looking beyond the snowfall is key to understanding black masks. (and .he. takes her captive.)

his own merlot-swinging monet of timeless scars...

the plain cliche of hubris and heroism, torn apart and fragmented :: youlovehimsomuch but. . .

dwelling upon oedipus rex on a rather dormant sunday afternoon.

Abandoned for years, it sits on her windowsill and collects dust.

A small flower rests on top of the garbage (rusted.love) .

Morbidly cartoonish, with his fire stroking the stormy skies, his face mocks all attempts to save his unwilling lover.

He's illicitly cheating kindness.

Ancient royalty is glimpsed in sidewalk chalk.

A shot rings out in the park... Why not? The sunset creates the (perfect) backdrop, and she's the (flawless) prima donna who allures the world around her.

Rising gas prices.

Indulging in a sweet fantasy.

Thinking about the future with nothing to distract me but those all-knowing orbs mocking me from the night sky.

Inspired by the song by The White Stripes... "A tiny ripple of hope is what spread throughout the school community, that day that Kelly Q. took circumstances beyond her control and controlled them to the best of her ability."

They bleed.

Dedicated to those in the path of Hurricane Katrina. The waters swept her away... The Little Swimmer That Could.

No one fits nature's mold. How do you cope? [Another rather morbid piece. I had some fun with the formatting, but not too much. : ) ]

A chilling death. [Read between the lines; look a little harder. There's some cool stuff there.]

Inspired in part by Bragi's /Speak Not Of Mountains/ and Mizamour's /On Cliches/. Please don't kill me, guys- you rock :)

The rainfall exposes us for who we truly are...

"Her peach lips / are what the boisterous men / like about her most."

A shorter piece about a sad little girl's misfortune.

Let's watch the sunset...

Pretty little Scarlett never came back...

/It should have been her destiny.../ For some reason, I really like this one. Tell me what you think.