Blue silk

She begins by the bins. Draped in blue silk, her back waves slowly like a tree rising from the ground. Beads and jewels hang off her waist. Navy eye shadow hides her downward gaze.

Traces of us

My mother tends to just watch me at times. Most do, with respect to their own children, I imagine. Still I find it curious.

Beardwolf

I cut my hair, or let it grow, and then look in the mirror to find my reflection astray. A moment later it hits me. My beard, or whatever thereof, is now at an inappropriate level relative to my hair.

Around the sun

As I sat in my room, listening to the vague electrical’s of King Crimson, I thought of age and accomplishment. What have I added to the world? Should I have eaten fewer cookies (actually in my case, more cookies)?

Everything

I wouldn’t call it a block. I would call it a bottleneck. It’s not having nothing to say rather having too many things to say. As my mind fights to settle on an answer it becomes numbed in the skirmish of thoughts. Firecrackers, streamers and black holes.