Write

How sweet the sound of silence found. Finding seclusion within ourselves. We strive for quiet pines that sway with the sound of thoughts. Thoughts, they pepper me like rain drops. I fling my arms back and hug the want. The want to express, the will to write.

We Love

We met upon electric wire. Two users using what everyone else does for fun. Instead we found an addiction in each other and a constant want. I want now. I kill day dreams to concentrate during work. Dreams of you and me, things that may come to be. I fantasize about you still. The thought…

Erotic

They touch with thought. The desire is felt physically through their eyes. Music is in the background… something soft and unobtrusive. Nothing matters but the present. He raises his hand and touches her cheek. He does not caress her, he is afraid he might mar her beauty. Instead he lightly touches her and whispers in…

Giving Birth to Death

The screams can be heard from outside the home. Not surprising in this small village of straw huts and tin garages that serve as humble abodes. Strangely, despite the poverty, the place feels like home. Soft voices whispering comforting words rise from the small window from the bedroom. He looks in quickly so as not…

I am just a blogger

I am just a blogger. No different really from any other blogger here on WordPress, besides being a sexy Korean man with a really white name of course. I think that is the hardest thing for people to handle actually. I don’t think I’m important because I know I’m not important. It really is that…

Rainbows

You take away a color and all rainbows cry. They cry colorful tears of realization that life has a beginning and an end. How easily is the cycle broken by dashing unicorns that fall. They fall so slowly so the earth realizes what is happening and the stars blink in pain. A scene of tragic…

The Mirror

I stare at him. “You look tired,” I say. He glances back with scorn. The Korean death stare penetrates the glass. “Tired?” he scoffs, “Weak.” I glare back and mumble something incoherent. “What was that?” he snaps. “Nothing…,” I mumble as I pick up my pen. It is weighed down by obligation now. Sleep seems a…