I used to be able to fly but my wings are useless now. Just crumpled bones and feathers, torn apart further by the wind rushing past. My shoulders scream, the muscle burning and bones creaking, as they try to compensate for the damage. All I can do is fall. The ground rushing up and I know the end will hurt more than the begining did. But I cannot stop. I cannot turn or even slow my decent. All I can do is fall.

Writer In Dreams


Into The Dark

The TV drones on, another marathon for another show I’m barely interested in. It is merely background noise so that I can focus on the book in my hands. It is a thrilling tale about a girl who has come of age in a time when dragons plagued the skies. I follow her as she conquers her fears and tames one of these impressive beasts. The lights go out and everything is silent. The book falls with a thump onto the floor as I sit up trying to gain my bearings. There is a roar outside my bedroom window that threatens to shatter the glass. I raise the blinds trying to see into the darkness. I know what that sound is even though I’ve never heard it before. I know what it is because I’ve imagined it so many times as I followed Bryn on her adventures. And there, barely discernible in the dark is the outline of scales. A roar of flames emits form its mouth and I see clearly the green scales glistening with rain. A dragon is on my lawn and waiting for me. It is time for my own story.

Living Space

The room is neat, very put together. Despite the lack of furniture everything has its place, a space of its own. The last space I inhabited contained anothervperson. Another’s wants a desires that clashed with my own. This space that I have now is mine. I can control what happens in this space. It in this space that I own, where I found peace. Peace from the chaos that occurred outside the doors of my last space. Peace from the tornado that came and went leaving a mess in its wake. Most of all peace from the rules that ment nothing to those that made them. Now I have a space in which I can live.

Lines We Live In

As a human race our life is defined by lines. Lines for the DMV, either for licences or registrations of personal vehicles. Lines for the poor in the form of Human Resources, a.k.a. Food Stamps/Government Assistance. Lines for polls electing our new Governing bodies. Lines in grocery stores to buy food. Lines on highyways as we try to go home. Everywhere you look humans are in lines. If not for our early childhood training those lines would be chaotic as each man tries to out do the other. Our lives are defined by the lines we make.

Writer In Dreams