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I used to walk


in a world of never ending blueness

through deserts of broken glass,

through meadows filled with frozen roses

I used to wish

I were stardust

forming only to disperse again

It used to be silent

It used to be cold

It used to be lonely

Now I feel

this world is changing

my dreams whisper of a future

ice melts as a strange sun rises:

new colors


my eternity

of blue

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In my silver world

I am in no longer alone

In my silver world

we are dancers

among black roses


as their velvet petals first bloom

and then rot into lurid nightmares

In my silver world

we are painters

thorns are brushes

we etch in scarlet ink

our love on our pale skin

In my silver world

we kiss

as we fall

through a sky of lost stars

In my silver world

everyone forgets

only we remember each other


dreams unfazed

by glaring mornings

dazzling with firelight

everywhere people with tired

half-closed eyes

somewhere they are flying in the blue

along with the clouds across the silver stars

somewhere they are laughing

somewhere a smile dances golden on their face

but we don’t see them somewhere

we see them here

in this void

our void,

this white sucking emptiness

where dreams die with mornings

DolphinsIn her eyes

oceans glitter

a blue

like frozen sapphires

and lost happiness

like colorful dolphins

swim on the surface


touching her soul



I cannot stop thinking…


…atoms that were you

are different things



…the fog hanging

still and grey above

the turning Earth…


…the light that falls

like golden rain

and breaks like glass…


…the bones of babies

when they come

crying and unseeing

with fists clenched

tightly around

the memories everyone



…the stardust that

drifts down when

I am walking to



…in the wind whose

voice sounds like yours…


I can’t stop thinking…


…maybe I will hold you again…

Falling Colors



the sky was full

of falling colors

like snow

drifting down

to fade and melt

on silent gun metal


like dying fireworks

bleeding into night

leaving only dreamers

to wonder in memories

of color



A bridge

suspended in the air


in between

the sun

and the earth


A mist has risen

gathering silver

washing over

drowning faces


Transparent fish

swim beneath it

down in the forests

of the ocean


A vast city

Breathless and empty

lying forgotten

underneath the sea


A human drifting

tossing pebbles

into the water

her perspiration

like her whole body

is crying

Hiding from the Sun

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Her eyes were not used to the light.

It was difficult to look at the world.

It hurt.

She was constantly blinking,



only able to see the world halfway.

She felt like her eyes were always about to collapse,

they seemed to provide less protection than normal eyes.

She cringed at the sun,

the golden rays that seared the balls of her eyes,



and burned.

She loathed the summer.

The glaring, fluorescent blue skies,

and endless blood-orange sunsets.

In the summer even the nights seemed too bright.

She wished she could hide until winter,

where the skies were gun greys

and soft purples and lavenders

or in her sleep where everything was a muted pearl blue,

in dreams where stars were fatter,

bloated with dust,

where she could hide from the sun.




I fear I have forgotten my name. However the thing I find more troubling is not that I forgot it, but how quickly I forgot it. I knew it just a moment ago after all. I was striding down a street, grey, concrete, careful not to step on the cracks when it slipped from my fingers. In the exact moment that it fell, a gust of wind picked up, pulling it out of my reach. I watched it drift away, silvery, wispy, spreading smoky tendrils, diluting in the air. Of course I could’ve ran after it, tried to catch it before it disappeared completely, but I just sort of stood there, my body limp, my bones too heavy. It was only afterwards that it hit me and I realized I was nameless.




Sometimes we listen

to things we cannot hear.


Lie on our backs;

with forgotten sight,

our mind washed and blank,

our thoughts swirling above,

in open space,

and silence

so vast and empty

that it carries

the echo of sound,

the echo of a song,

the music of the falling sun,

notes that glitter gold,

before drifting slowly

into frozen horizons.


We listen to voices,

drowned, and dead,

cold and shuddering,

beneath the earth.


We listen to voices,

yet unheard, and unknown,

but imagined.


We listen to sounds,

from an alien world,

foreign and abstract,

like the colors of the sunset,

from an alternate galaxy.


We listen to the meaningless,

until it has meaning.

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