presentation matters—
parsley sprigs,
a balsamic drizzle,
a touch of flair.
but Darren brought Steve.
still wearing his name badge.
it was—
a little on the nose.
“We don’t do that anymore,”
Claire sighed,
her tofu skewer dangling like judgment.
“We’re plant-based now.
it’s about kale bowls
and ethical protein.”
Darren shrugged.
gesturing to Steve,
“What can I say?
he’s free range.”
the dinner ...
The night spreads, thick as velvet,
a dark weight pressing close,
and I lie in its arms,
swallowed by the silence—
no stars to guide, no moon to soften,
only the shadows, breathing beside me.
Beneath this hush, a scream coils,
silent, fierce, rising sharp,
a raw cry clawing its way up—
caught in my chest like jagged glass,
its edge scraping, ripping through
the tender walls of my heart.
The peac...
Once upon a time and a very good time it was,
A moocow ambled down the old country lane,
Sunlight dripped like honey on its hide,
A simple scene, yet a tale to be told,
Through the eyes of a nicens little boy.
Baby Tuckoo, with eyes wide as the sky,
Gazed upon the moocow with wonder pure,
The world unfurled in soft, vibrant hues,
Each step a brushstroke on life's canvas.
The moocow’s gentle low,...
In Portland’s underbelly,
where neon lights flicker like half-forgotten dreams,
they gather—
hunched shoulders and hollow eyes,
those who seek the shadows,
not out of fear,
but out of a need to feel something more
than the emptiness inside that daylight exposes.
The streets are veins,
pulsing with the life of the night,
in alleyways slick with rain,
where syringes glint under streetlights,
they s...
In the half-light,
where sleep teeters on the edge,
it waits—
a ripple in the dark,
like the last breath of a whispered dream.
You feel it, don’t you?
That flicker at the corner of your mind,
a shiver that runs down your spine,
cool fingers tracing the outline of dreams
you haven’t quite left behind.
It doesn’t roar,
no claws to rend or tear,
but it feeds, oh yes—
it feeds on the threads of your...
Rain
falls softly
on empty streets.
Neon lights flicker;
Cyclists speed by quickly;
Food carts, steaming, fragrant;
Murals whisper stories in paint;
Music spills from open doorways.
A crowd gathers, watching in awe
as streetlights cast shadows on history.
Voodoo donuts passed around, shared with love;
Strangers smile, laugh, finding connection in the dark
as Portland breathes in this living momen...
It wasn’t always like this—
city streets humming with decay,
where hope once simmered—
now, a heavy silence sprawls,
clinging to corners,
the residue of a dream deferred.
Aluminum foil glints under the neon haze,
not a spark of hope, but a glimmer of despair,
minds lost in the endless chase for numbness,
caught in a loop with no end in sight.
I walk these streets, each step heavier than the last,...
Neon nights and velvet dawns,
where the city's pulse thrums electric,
streets soaked in digital glow,
each shadow a whisper of secrets untold.
Under the flicker of moonlit billboards,
graffiti sprawls like urban ivy,
wild and rebellious,
etching tales of love and defiance.
Midnight cafes buzz with caffeinated dreams,
conversations sharp as shattered screens,
words dancing in the smoky air,
spinn...
Beneath a sky where whispers softly breathe,
In nights when dreams would weave their tender lace,
Stars once shimmered, their magic to bequeath,
Now fade away, their light a cold embrace.
In city shadows where laughter once burst,
Felt the warmth of touch and tasted sweet wine,
Yet time, relentless, leaves our hearts immersed,
In scents of loss that linger, intertwine.
Once bold and bright, now ...