A Sleight by a Hand

A Sleight by a Hand

He disappears into a wooded brush. Someone, anyone, a stranger follows, slowly, cautiously, purposefully. He feels the itch of a sneeze, hears the pop of a nearby twig snapping. Unsure now of the direction from whence he came, he holds his breath; frozen, his eyes dart from right to left in a blurry attempt to find or recognize a way out. Eyes search, nose runs from the suppressed sneeze. Wondering if he is able to withstand the torment, he shuts his eyes tight and shuts out the world. A miraculously slight breath in, an impossibly slow breath out. He may pass out, he decides if he must continue to breathe at such a pace. A faint wrestling of leaves under foot. His eyes bolt over his left shoulder toward the sound. Read more

This room has no windows.

This room has no windows.

When my brother left for college, he lived in California, and I, still finishing up high school, lived at home in Colorado. When I left for college, I moved to Texas, and my brother, still a student, lived in California. When I quit school, we both lived under the same roof of our childhood for the summer, and then I moved to New York while he remained in Colorado. When I went back to school, we both lived in Colorado but in faraway places. A year later, he moved to Chile, South America. Three years after that, I moved to Seoul, South Korea. A year after that, he moved to Shanghai, China.

He has a new girlfriend, “I’m really, like, I really like this girl, but I fucked it up.” Read more

Behind the Glass

Behind the Glass

Her eyes, the truth, the vain insanity of wanting, nay, needing to look … intelligent pulls feebly at her ego. How one could even know if he/she is smart soon becomes the truly inane question. She remembers the one time she felt legitimately smart. Not to say that she feels or believes herself to be stupid, quite the contrary, unfortunately. No matter, there was this one time wherein she really felt exceptionally smart. Read more

Sleep’s Trouble

Sleep’s Trouble

The days are always dark here, and I don’t know if my body/mental health -psychology- can handle this new reality. Stuck, lost in a dream, I hear myself narrating, ruminating about the nonsensical train of indistinct, unimportant thoughts and mental baggage of a life spent cooped up within the realm of the reality of the constraints of the temple of the glass half empty, always half full of the hopes and the opportunity to live once again, freed within the existence of independence, objectivity and the pencil’s finely sharpened tip. Read more