Paper Sailboats

Paper sailboats created out of paper dreams. They sail down manmade paths of flowing tears towards perfectly spaced gutters. Gapping jaws of finality swallow hope without remorse, inhuman as they are unbiased in selection. I stare for a second to ensure a miracle does not happen. It does not.

I create a smaller sailboat.



The Tone of my Fingers

What is the tone of your writing? Do you feel it in your fingers? Sometimes I feel like my ten digits write the sound of my heart. I allow them free reign upon the playing field of my keyboard. The taps of the keys lessen the stress I feel in my shoulders. My body looks to my fingers for guidance, truer expression of emotion cannot be found.

I wonder if my right hand is angrier than my left. They compete for the middle of the keyboard and joust over space. I feel like putting one in time-out sometimes, but what would I be with only one hand? Would it hinder the sharing of my passion, of my true thoughts? I contemplate this as I feel the need to work my extensions to death. My joints creak with the effort, the effort is worth it though.

The tone of my fingers is the tone of me. I have to believe that as I drive them for more. Always more, my nails reflect the determination of my eyes. And so I continue to write, to share, and to possibly care. It is all my fingers know.

-Opinionated Man

The Joust

The ground shakes as if the earth is giving birth to twin earthquakes. Two men clothed in iron race upon horseback towards each other with similar goal. A prize that only one can possibly win.

Lances with shining tips of justice are leveled with steady hands as the combatants draw near. The watching crowd inhales as one a last gasp of air as the inevitable clash of desire draws close.

The crash of contact also heralds the end for the defeated as a shining helmet flies through the air and is quickly followed by an armored man. The end is realized as the ground comes rushing forth to meet him.

A single knight trots towards the center stand, alone in victory. His prize is not the thunderous applause of his newly acquired fans. Instead his trophy falls gently from the sky, an insignificant handkerchief embroidered with rich letters.

It is a gift worthless to all save one.

The winner of The Joust.


You are my Sin

You are my sin I stir you with a thought as I savor each taste. I smoke you in a pipe and exhale you into the breeze. You flutter in the wind like a squall, I wave as we sail away into the palpable darkness. It hangs like a shroud trying to separate us from the fortunes to be found. I sip from a single glass that has tasted many different waters. They make small waves within my cup, different shades of amber, the miniature icebergs scream for help as they slowly melt and die. I swallow quickly to save a single life. Only one life is worth retaining an ounce of pain. I owe mankind that. And in his image do I spear the demon I behold before my eyes. He squirms like a pathetic worm as I flick him off with disdain from your spear.

They come in with the tide on ships built upon dreams and the backs of men as they sweat dead dreams out of their pores. The terror that follows is swift and deadly. I dream of days past as I stare in the embers of the fire and wish vengeance on my enemies. You come quietly to comfort me. Our comforting leaves me satisfied for the brief seconds it takes to buckle on my sword. I step out into a nightmare… and face it with a cold smile. Glancing back at you as the door slowly closes with a movie scene theatric, we smile for a moment in chaos and share one breath together. I turn around and stare my first foe in the eyes. He does not blink as he rams his saber into my body. I begin to laugh and grab the sword blade with my left hand, it bleeds as the metal cuts into my palm. I pull my new lover closer and thrust my sword into his throat. The moment could never have been so sweet, the sweet taste of death.


To Kiss the Rain

I kiss the rain to hide my tears. Drowning in sorrow, I present a smile to the sky as I float amongst my fears. We present a collage of humanity against the despair that seeks to break us. So much effort to destroy a single spirit, take heart in knowing your importance. I am a single candle that shines against the coming torrent. Even when the rain comes and snuffs out my flame in that final moment… I will still attempt to kiss the rain one last time. If only in the hope that the smoke will carry my story on for a second longer.