After the smoke cleared and fires burned out

We still had to be sure there was no nuclear fallout

This war didn’t solve a thing other than over-population

At least no one can claim discrimination

No this was complete and utter annihilation

Because wars aren’t fought with soldiers these days

It’s cyber attacks, drones, and missles setting the world ablaze

While “soldiers” sit behind screen arrays

...

It’s

Better

This way

They

Say.

The dreams and

The anger

And the

Ambition

And

The

Sand

Flood the house

And

Tarnish

The doorway to

Home.

The sand

Makes people

Scream

At each other

At themselves

Because of

The

Sand

And the

Anger

And the

Ambition

And

Dreams

Which they

Say

Are

Natural....

Sand fills everything

If you let it

Fills in every nook

Every cranny

Every cut you didn’t know you left open

Time takes everything

If you let it

Every look of longing

Every stolen kiss

Every memory you didn’t know you wanted...

I pass by the place where she used to live, her former home.

It’s not the home’s beauty that stole my heart, but the person who created a warm and inviting atmosphere within it 🤍...

Though I had wiped her from my mind.

Sacrificed a thousand sunny days for one unbroken chain of gloom to loom over me like the mist to the sea.

When I see her face in the autumn sky,

I relive vague dreams of summer,

Wiggling my toes in the sand & sweaty, intertwined hands that drip with doe-eyed innocence.

My first love, born with the scorpion’s venom,

Put his stinger in my heart, convulsing on sh...

August stared at the sight in disbelief. Piles of sand filled the former home, and the walls were dirty and washed out. What used to be a comely, large, and extravagant mansion was reduced to only a fraction of its former glory. August inhaled sharply and turned her gaze back to Dawn’s icy blue eyes—almost purple. “_This _is where my ancestors used to live?” She asked, unable to hide the scowl for...

I claw my way from inside my home,

The sand gives under my hands in soft and useless fistfuls of nothing

that sticks in grit to my skin.

It is in my eyes,

It is in my lungs.

I choke it up to no avail, it hooks in tight to everything except itself.

I hear my baby crying, then

Nothing.

Where is my wife?

I want to scream for her, but I can’t inhale.

It flooded in like water,

Sand is not suppose...

She fell into her hourglass of sand

to find the sidewalks gone,

the house abandoned

to some big shake-up

by the hand of God,

the desert creeping

into everything, until she

woke herself out of the glass,

shook off the nightmare

of being overwhelmed,

picked up a broom and swept

her own footprints away

as if she was the desert wind....

the sand falls through my fingers.

alone in this world again.

my footprints should guide you,

should you think to look for me.

you’ll find me burried in the grain.

bathed in the warmth.

and slipping through time....

At the very least I try to visit Vegas every weekend to see my son. It is not that bad of a drive from Los Angeles. It’s tough but I just hope this weird transitional phase in my life is over soon. My life just seems like a series of liminal space from emty apartments to empty desserts. Sometimes I try to explore some of the landmarks in between the two cities. I’ve been to mining places, Joshua t...