The bathroom was dirty. The off-white tiles shined almost brown in the cheap fluorescent lighting. She noticed right away there were no paper towels, only hand dryers, the kind that blow all the dust and germs around.
She checked the first stall and then the seconds-no, still dirty. She would have to hold it until she got home after school, or skip 3rd period to go home to pee.
Take a pill to swallow the crazy
Your hand reaches out Taking hold of my throat Closing, closing Choking the goodness from my lungs Seeping, sweeping onto the floor Crumpling down Down I go Losing consciousness For a moment, Taking me by surprise Your words hit me This time Like they… Continue Reading “Silent”
Do I write for fun? Or when the power of words hit me? Do I write to process, to understand The beauty of things that surround? Would I write if energy was freely given, Flowing to me in a continuous And purifying rain of… Continue Reading “Why I don’t Write”
She came to my door Broken and shamed Last night to explain The unexplainable How she rose above The light until She reached the Darkness of Your might. It could Be easy to Pretend But you Know That’s Not What She’ll Do. photo credit:… Continue Reading “Run”
To serve others was all she’d ever known. Bred for a purpose, now she would become a housewarming gift for a lucky gentleman. “Make sure you know what he likes to eat,” scolded her mother, “or else you’ll always have an irritable man.” Other… Continue Reading “Jump”