softserve's profile

Rain, a polka dotted silence, reminds me of autumn 2007 when I found you in Hillsboro Kansas. I adored your blue soccershorts, lusted from a lawn mower, earning five bucks an hour and watching glowing black hair breeze in the sun. In your dorm, my fingertips glossed brown freckled cheeks, shivering tears for your dead mother, and when you fell asleep, my ribs came warm in your breathing. Outside, it stormed; delicate harmonic tones chimed against glass— inspiration music to eager ears. I once...

On top of the bar, a demon scarecrow battles an axe-wielding mutant toad. As this mook is giving me her order, I look over at the cook as if to say, "smash them with your hand, quick, they're making too much noise, I can't hear the customers!" The mook orders a Rueben with no kraut. the cook raises her eyebrow at me, then turns toward the grill. Cripes! I hope no one sits at the bar! What if a customer gets a tiny axe in their eye? Surely, they'd sue. Table 3, the guy looks like the man on ca...

My Dream grows orange and white blossoms which stem from the black centers in her eyes. One tear of blue water slips emaculately down the middle of each bloom, above where several tiny headless men wait with umbrellas.

As you sit alone in your mother's backyard getting soaked I drop anticipating rolling off your thin lashes making my own fresh river down your face

My Dream grows orange and white blossoms which stem from the black centers in her eyes. One tear of blue water slips emaculately down the middle of each bloom, above where several tiny headless men wait with umbrellas.