bottled rocket

Posted: June 27, 2017 in Uncategorized

i’ve given up so many dreams.  i could have been so many things other than what i’ve become. but i made the choices. now i pay the dues.  i’m okay with that.  mostly.

sometimes i still wonder what it would be like to be a firework. small and compact and out of everyone’s way and completely ordinary, until something lit me up.  and i would overshadow everything and brighten up the entire sky. and maybe you’d see me in that form with awestruck eyes and think i was beautiful.

and then maybe when i die and was forgotten i could say at least i had my moment, at least i’d go out with a bang. let’s face it. there’s not much more beautiful than an explosion.

then maybe all my blues would finally have a purpose and not just weigh on my chest. maybe then i could be extraordinary.



why do they call you Ghost?

Posted: June 13, 2017 in Uncategorized

what’s in my name? it’s just a noun you use to pro log every moment. it’s a standard stabbed into the ground, claiming the ground where i stand, dictating what i see, what i should be.

who am i? who cares? all of your labels stick to me, masking tape on an identity i have barely bared. even to myself.

i’m not interested in your name, your family crest. i don’t see your father’s money. when i look at you, i take pleasure in your eyes, face, skin. our names do not matter when our hands and hearts touch.

ghost. ever middling. ever lost.


Posted: June 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

sparks turned into a firestorm. firestorm turned everything to ash. it burned through everything, his mind, his heart, and his soul.

now, with all his shields and armor, he grows colder by the day. and with a soul as dry as gun powder he guns down feelings before they can mature and over throw him. he tells you he does so without regret, guilt, or care, but he is a liar.



depression creeps

Posted: May 25, 2017 in Uncategorized

it emerges from the blue and asks me trick questions. i’m not sure of anything, not really. mostly i guess and follow instincts that have been known to lead me astray.

these fluorescent lights are kicking my a$$ today and i can’t say for sure if i’m even human. i feel like an animal trapped and angry and just go away, just let me go, just open the cage door and move aside. i won’t hurt you, not unless you make me.

they are calling me, trying to get my attention, seeking my approval, but they don’t even know my name. i don’t know why that should matter.

i’m a cliche.

i’m a clicking ballpoint, used up and discarded. there’s no ink left in the tube so i just make scratching sounds and faint indentions as i am pushed and shoved across the surface.



another lost t-shirt

Posted: May 24, 2017 in Uncategorized

“as soon as my eyes opened i knew i was not going back to sleep. i do this sometimes. i know you of all people know what i am talking about.

so i am sitting here in this black leather chair listening to you breathe. not in a stalkerish sort of way, though. this might be the most peaceful i have ever seen you. i mean, yes, you are always calm and collected, but i suspect you are like a duck on the water. you look like you are gliding, but underneath the surface you are paddling like mad.

the moon light peaking through the blinds casts your face in contrast i think you would think would make a good painting. i will not pretend to understand how you see things.

i hope you do not mind that i borrowed one of your t-shirts. it is soft and i like the way it clings to my bare chest. i like how it smells just like you and i catch myself pulling it to my face and inhaling your scent as i sit here penning this by the light of your computer. you make me feel safe, Ghost. you always have. you are not my type at all, but you make me feel like i can say or be anything i want and it will be alright with you.

i am going to stop writing now and come crawl back into bed beside you. i am growing jealous of the pillow you have pulled to your chest.”


i wake to her getting out of bed, immediately aware that i have not gotten nearly the sleep today is going to demand. she is picking her way through the clothes we discarded about the room.

“where are you going?” i ask.

“sun’s almost up, sweety,” she says, pulling on her shorts. “i have to go home and make myself ready for today. my beauty all comes from a bottle and brush work.”

“now you’re just telling lies.”

“you really are the sweetest guy i know,” she says.

“are you friend zoning me?” i ask.

she giggles and heads for the door.

“thank you for letting me come and crash with you,” she says as i follow her to the door. “and thanks for the t-shirt.”

and she is gone before i can protest her leaving or my t-shirt. as she drives away i step back in and lock the door as the sun peaks above the treeline. i find a note she has written in the night beside my car keys, tucked into my wallet. i read it twice.

“damn,” i whisper. ‘i really wanted to cook you breakfast.”




Posted: May 22, 2017 in Uncategorized

“Tip, if i hold my project way over here and you squint, does it look a little bit three dimensional?”-a.w.

“you know? chia pet, n!gga!”-a.w.


“Tip, do you have any rope?”-g.h.

“yes, i do,”-ghost (hands it out)

“yes, that looks just like slavery.”-g.h.


“i have whiplash.”-e.b.

“why? what happened?”-ghost

“meredith and i had a competition to see who could dab the most times in five seconds.”-e.b.

“and you hurt yourself? you hurt yourself dabbing?”-ghost



“Tip, turtles or boobs?”-k.f.

“i fail to see how those two are fit for a comparison, but my choice is obvious.”-ghost

“ok, i’ll put you down for boobs.”-k.f.


“i was supposed to cook dinner last night, but i gave my mom some attitude and so we had hot dogs.”-dmac


“it’s like killing your best friend and then having your friend hold your dead friend.”-k.f.

“what are y’all talking about?”-ghost

“building a tree house.”-k.f.


“looks like it’s drug testing day, suckers.”-ghost

“she’ll be fine. she’s not on her period.”-n.a.

“whoa, easy. tap the breaks on that.”-ghost

“you don’t understand, Tip. that would be a disaster.”-n.a.




i miss the game

Posted: May 18, 2017 in Uncategorized

she let her short dress ride up on her thigh in such a way that even the sun wanted to touch her. it was all i could do not to make a move, and i’m sure that’s exactly why she did it. she liked to drive me crazy, wanted to see how far she could push me, to tempt me. all she ever wanted was to dance with the devil, but i wasn’t the man for her then. nothing about that has changed, but i can’t help but wonder what she would have done had i given in and just touched her.