When the morning sun pulls at me,
while I let night’s sheet billow over my body,
as I sit in front of the keyboard and
silence purrs in the corners of my mind,
tickling my fingertips as
friends drag on dulled out conversations,
I’ll have it steaming in my hands.
I’ve been thinking recently about people’s voices. Today, it’s easy to say what you want through media, anonymous websites, behind computer screens, ect. You can shout into the void all you want and have a temporary satisfaction from actually saying what has been bouncing around in your head for days on end. You have something to say, and thanks to the internet, you have somewhere to say it. You’re shouting, ranting, commenting, blogging (irony) and the satisfaction is instant but brief.
The void doesn’t always yell back. Continue reading
His head rests against the side of the bus. His eyes began to slide shut, then the wheels hit another bump, his head thumps against the metal, and his eyes snap open. The bus pulls into a station.
He sits up and blinks at his watch.
Ten AM. Just four more hours to go.
The buzzing in his head grows louder and he groans, pushing his palms against his eye sockets. He feels his seat shift slightly.
A young woman, maybe twenty-five, twenty-six, is sitting on the empty seat next to him. Her hair is grey and tightly pulled back in a bun. Her long fingers pull her oversized shirt down, straightening it. She turns toward him, eyes slithering down his body. Her gaze tugs on his insecurities and he crosses his arms, dragging his hoody tighter around his body. Continue reading