INSANITY IS RELATIVE

Who’s to blame? The preverbal switch-a-roo, so to say. I like to think that it’s others, but it’s usually me.

BURNT AIR

Burnt air tastes of ash and smoke. Specks of lined paper rise up on a sweeping current into the sky.

BAITED HOOK, FLYING

The boy’s spine curled forward, similar to a shaved orange peel, though he clearly wasn’t an orange.

A MILLION THOUGHTS

I have a million thoughts meandering through my brain, but none of them crave the microphone. None of them rise to the forefront.

TO THE SKY, TO THE LIGHT

He lingered in the doorway, tall and dark. Bright too, in the glow of the sun that sizzled his face.

WORTHY OF MY OWN ACCEPTANCE

Powerful. Me becoming who I am or who I wish to be. How do we bring that about, this believing in oneself? Ultimately, this unshakable belief stems from me believing in myself—owning myself, all of me.

THE UNIVERSAL SPIRIT OF “WE”

Shade sweeps across my toes and hair as my hips sway. I talk low, threading words into sentences, traversing the wireless to another. Her voice, small and intelligent, vast in her breath of language, is articulate and a joy.

WHEREVER, WHENEVER

She is round and fluid in a long floral skirt and a salmon-colored short-sleeve shirt. She drinks coffee, and her gaze flits over the room. Her lips are thin but sweet, smiling when anyone speaks.

RIP THROUGH AND REVEAL

Stirring of thought.

IS LOVE MORE PAINFUL THAN HATE?

I heard a song the other day, something about love being more painful than hate.

SELF-RESPECT SPRINGS

Responsibility. Engagement of self, ego, pride, humility, and every nook and cranny between all things we consider we want and wish for and need.

WE BEGIN TO ASTOUND

What would the world look like if we all “did the things we [were] capable of doing?” That world would be a sight to see.