The trip was awesome
Learning about the camera
The first week's over

I write like a paintball machine
Spitting out ***** of paint
In flights of fancy

I write like I think
My thoughts
And emotions
Coming alive

I write like a roller coaster
My mood swings apparent
High to low
And sometimes
Just plain wired

I write like I sing
At moments belting it all out
Other times, softer
Taking the effort
To sing so others will like it

I write like a camera
Taking snapshots
Of everything surrounding me
Both outside
And inside

I write like I cry
The words coming out like an endless waterfall
In a short burst of emotion
Before it stops
And I am light as a feather

I could compare my writing to so much
It’d probably take longer than I have
To name them all
But with just this
I’m sure you can relate

Writing can be a lovely thing

There is nobody else
Just us
Together

Let’s forget
Everything
Face the lens

Don’t get confused
Now it’s time to fly
In a secret sky

Click | Click

Ready
3-2-1
Cheese

The usual, they say

After 3-2
I pause
Getting  time for a smile

She smiles  back
That divine smile
Preserved

Thus memory

Rumor has it one takes pictures of stuff
that one is afraid of losing.

The girl who captures moments with her camera
seeking the company of entangled dwellings
beneath the womb of nightfall
for the city is silent
in this witching hour of her heart;
her misbegotten heart which,
with - step by step - every beating
also grabs, in her own way, fragments of reality.

So, she wanders through the whisper-lighted streets
by taking pictures and immortalizing shapes,
searching for a dead-end for finding a living door,
a door, which she may be able to preserve,
to his sorrow-sealed soul.