The writings of a borderline madman. Dawn climbs the horizon yet not. As the dark brew ground fine brews to steamy hot. Awake though lesser in aware. Unbalanced with vision blurred by bloodshot. To nothing doest unfocused stare. Despite the effort of Sandman to lull with coo. Night upon night doest his call be stilled. Save a nod overtaken for an hour or mayhaps two. Alone in the dark and dreary.

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Never lose the child within you. Sometimes our life is like drawing straight lines on a piece of paper. We draw a thousand lines each day and most of them are imperfect and often cross one another. But in the end, no matter what kind of lines you draw, we must not forget to make a picture out of it. A life soaked in colors. Dreams of painting life with a thousand colors. Crashed to the ground like a bird with burned wings. Seems funny, and unworthy for others.

The Open Source of Hovering Ideas. Yeah bro, Still coding with ya. Still the refactoring is a mess. Still refactoring that shit, huh VJ? And maki.

A Blog For Poetry, Short Story, or Features. Emily Trajcevski Mangelsdorf Christensen Cohen. New Orleans, Louisiana 70112. Check out Xavier University,.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. On short story slam week 81. On short story slam week 76,. Short story slam week 85, poetry and story inn fridays week 15.

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Exploits, adventures, and tragedies of an ordinary woman. I look beyond the horizon of my soul, searching. For connection in the vast wasteland of my being. Restlessness, agitation rule my waking time. Dreams, insomnia tick away the hours until dawn. The tears come suddenly, frequently. They anger me, these unbidden rivulets. I have no right to wallow and complain. I did not lose my hair.