110 words 1 year ago.

Caught up in silence.

it’s quiet here, she says.

she rolls over to the scent of burning

( she’s burning  )

she half sees him

come to bed, she says.

he can feel her yearning

he pulls her up

let me take a picture he says

he had his hands on his camera

but there was fear in her eyes

with your phone, he adds

her fear protected him.

she thought it was to make her feel more comfortable

she wanted to believe that

in her heart she felt that


his fingers run across each her

she slaps him distracted.

he gets that spark in his eyes that makes her weak









slathered in metal armor she is malleable.


she covers me.

at night she sparkles, spinning, spectacularly



Densely bound, she shines.

She laughs at flames that dare to lick her face.

White hot she pierces past perceptions plainly prismed

wrapped in wind, she a whisp of a whispered memory almost always forgotten

she is bold.

The cover of night can not shield from her iridescence.

In the noise she breathes bringing babel beside her breast bringing

life to those who’ve lived her

deafening those who silence her

impervious to the terrors of humanity

she spun shining over me


i sent word to iris hoping she’d find me.

it’s been years since we spoke.





i could feel his eyes on me no matter where i was

I hid, but was charmed out of the shadows by melodies and drums

his hand reaches out for mine,

and out we spin onto the twinkling dance floor.

marvin gaye croons while a hand on the small of my back causes a soft moan to escape

i’m drowning in dopamine

let me live in this moment;

i am his and

he twists me around on the twinkling dance floor.

my heart rate quickens though tempos have slowed

he pulls me in and deeper I sink

he whirls me around on the twinkling dance floor.

he pinches my cherub cheeks before I realize my feet ache

and I long to be back on the twinkling dance floor.


Rows of white puffy cotton are beginning to peak out from the prickly clutches of the bud. I can see the anxiety on my faces as our hands get close to the buds. The quick pain of the prick is nothing compared to the lashing if the cotton is stained by blood. I can hear the songs mixing with the crack of the whip in the air. 

I see our fears. 

I see the trees closing in properties luring me to them. They reek of death and freedom. I can see myself running towards them, ignoring my own pleas to turn around.  Before I reach the end of my row I watch a bullet tear itself threw my chest. 

Tonight my body will be strung up on the trees to remind myself that death comes to those who dream. 

I fell for you years ago.

before I could pronounce it I was calling your name.

I read stories about us.

Watched movies with you and I in the leading roles.

I’ve tasted the temperature of milk for your son and

choked on tears at your wake.

You fell for me back then.

Saw the future in my eyes and felt at home in my skin.

You left something with me that you can’t find again.

I stole something from you without ever knowing.

We danced back then.

Kissed on long walks back then.

Now I watch us played out on stages all around me

wondering will I ever play the original again.









Thabit – an excerpt. 

She had seen much in her life-maybe too much; maybe she was too mythical to be thought of as real… even when she was engulfed by it she still observed from a far (Indeed a rare one was she) a stillness she knew not, and yet she knew to long for its presence, she knew to hold tight to things, but always seemed to grasp at irons that burnt her hands, pigs greased in oil escaped her; she lived in a world where all was temporary, the only thing permanent wher the simple strings she put to pads. She discovered string theory in the most unorthodox of ways, falling between the lines where complexity doth lie. Her favorite where the half planets that stuck between legible lines, read by men whose goal is to make pretty women cry and swoon, too oft lost among the dissonance she found peace.