the-monster-in-the-mirrorWhisper

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The mundaneI'm not sure how these things work, / but we seemed to come together / through conversations and mocking arms.
18
Dec 19, 2013
Left Turn HereHiding in the bathroom / until my fear goes away; / fear of what
31
Nov 11, 2013
Light PollutionThe light pollution / from the lives of little people / in the big city
56
Nov 11, 2013
RefrainUp and down strange alleyways, / We ride our bike into fences, / knocking over garbage bins,
20
Oct 26, 2013
International AirportHe is who you want to see at the airport, / half asleep, pastel sweatshirt half zipped. / Half length shorts ending just above the knees.
24
Oct 1, 2013
SixTurn the kitchen sink on. Wait 36 seconds. Turn the sink off. Count the sides of the kitchen doorway. One, two, three. Put socks on, walk to the bathroom. Take socks off. Turn the bathroom sink on. Wait 36 seconds. Turn the sink off. Count the sides of the bathroom doorway. One, two, three. Put socks on. The whole procedure had been finely polished into a smooth six minutes. Exactly. Justin’s day can now begin. He finishes his normal routine and leaves the house. He checks the gutter. He’s not checking for anything specific, but it’s sixth in his morning ritual and must be done. / Today he found something. There’s a girl, passed out. She is wearing an excessively short turquoise sequined dress, with matching stilettos. Justin was at a loss. The gutter was not empty. Should he call the police? He took her shoe. He ran. Six blocks later, he stopped. He was In front of his favourite coffee shop. It was an intimidating place, with a tattoo and piercing service offered, while you wait for your coffee. He liked it because the address was 666. He was worried the police he hadn't phoned would be searching for the stiletto he had stolen. Who would have known he would turn to a life of crime? Just earlier, while the bathroom sink was on, he had been thinking of complementing the local parking officer (the one with the limp) on his ability to write tickets. Now here he was, holding the glittering fruit of his crime. Maybe he could return it to the young lady. She seemed nice enough, from what little he knew of her. But what if she questioned him? Best have an excuse prepared. He could say he saw a spider climbing into it. His chivalry had saved her from a nasty bug bite. No, he couldn't pull that off. He would pretend to be a poet, that’s what he’d do. Poets are known for being strange. So he set about writing her a poem. / *Turquoise like the rain,
9
Sep 29, 2013
EyesToday I felt myself dissociateing, / I tried to avoid communicating, / look towards the ground.
21
Sep 24, 2013
PinwheelI am a pinwheel, spinning in the breeze / of the people striding past. / They all seem to be late for something.
16
Sep 4, 2013
ForeclosureOne day this building will become old and shabby / with peeling wallpaper, ratty carpeting, and cracking plaster. / One day the only option besides the wrecking ball will be
20
Sep 3, 2013
I Read the InstructionsI once knew a girl, / back when my posture was good, / we wore matching shirts,
43
Jul 13, 2013
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