manny's profile

It's one of those days like every other day in this town. The humans, like robots, working to their programmed schedules. The whirlwind of monotony. This is where I break out. I don't want this city to be my limit, but at this fork in the road all that's left is what's right but what's right feels so... And I don't know where I'm going in this one track life, but if you don't mind I'd like to have someone by my side when I change lanes. And letting go is the smartest move I could make. I need...

You once said, “You’re always beautiful to me.” Now, you make me chuckle with insecurities. You’re so good at trashing my hope for a bright future filled with love. When I hear her utter your name with affection, it digs into my soul, a jagged, rusty shovel into soft soil. But when I hear your response, when you turn the other cheek and your back on me and shut me of your glass box, I fall apart. With hands pressed against frigid glass, I peer into your world and see you, standing there with ...

It doesn’t always go down smooth But I drink it in as much as I can. It’s not always a good read, But I never put it down. Sometimes it’s the most horrid color imaginable, But it’s my favorite. I never know what to expect, but I always feel secure. Every now and then, the chaos catches up with me, But then music flows into my mind and my tension becomes nothingness. Matthew, Dera and Trent calm me as well; They take me in and shower me with unconditional amounts of sarcasm and playful insults...

A silent empty room inhabited you. In the wee hours, my dear friend, you comforted her with your hands on her shoulders- kneeding away at her tense muscles: Inevitably you caressed her into sleep and she slumped backwards onto your chest. You supported her for awhile. In her half-slumber, she felt your massage slow and soften. Your body fell back and then you too were asleep. In her sleep she migrated to the warmest spot, between your two arms. You faced one another; your slow, shallow breath...

snowflakes fall lazily from the grey sky, oblivious to what waits below. Semi-frozen mud, dead, desinegraterd leaves atop broken sticks. Is it the end? Will they all melt away and become water just to refreeze as part of solid mud and not as themselves? Or can they be who they are; as individual pieces of ivory wonder? And still the snowflakes are discarded. Thrown or tossed out from and uncaring sky.