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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the category “8 Megapixel Artist”

falling

Falling. Not hard fast, roof to concrete, flat. Pavement stain.

Falling. Not motion slow, dream, down down. Abyss pain.

Falling. Heart and mind one, you and I one. Blanket to pillow remain.

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good stories

“Bad choices make good stories.”

It’s a clever shirt. More clever, because it’s true.

Own your choices and you own your stories.

birthday girl

All I can say is, love exists.

Happy Birthday, Ruby.

decadence row

Pine Avenue, Long Beach.

Late night, deserted.

honor labor

What’s your hustle, your push, your labor? How do you pay the price for your spark, your dream , your creation?

front porch of the living dead

Just a house, on a quiet street, near a busy corner, somewhat out of sight from passers-by. A guest. A welcome visitor. A watchman. And if you get too close…

Hungry.

watcher

She is the watcher,

over all,

over me,

over the street,

from one end

to the other.

But the watcher

doesn’t see

that we

are watching

over her.

by its cover

This face, a book.

Judged by its cover.

A pair of eyes,

if you’re interested enough to read. But no book tells the whole story. You need to be the story to know it. Maybe one day you’ll tell someone, a stranger, a friend… doesn’t matter… “I read that book, once”. But you didn’t know the story.

This face, a book.

Judged by it’s cover.

flight

Rest

in that moment

when

all else is to risk

defeat

Until the next

when

you take flight.

just me

I could’ve had water,

I didn’t want tea.

I might’ve gone out,

But I kept it just me.

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