Capsized. You wake with a start to find your face pressed against the ceiling. The flotsam of your present life drifting aimlessly past you. Below: your kicking legs, unfulfilled promises tethered to you like an anchor, and...
0 Comments | Posted December 27, 2011 | 9:15 AM
Did you notice, the day you first stopped counting? The day the numbers stopped making sense? The day you began shoveling dreams, by the armload, into the basement? Hoarded and forgotten like rations in an abandoned fall-out...
0 Comments | Posted November 23, 2011 | 10:59 AM
Every working morning, for as long as you can remember, a stranger's face has stared back from your bathroom mirror's reflection. Occasionally, your eyes make contact when it glances back at you. The brief cold of a...
0 Comments | Posted October 26, 2011 | 7:40 PM


0 Comments | Posted March 19, 2012 | 1:14 PM