stream of consciousness #1

cracking light bulbs in the supermarket, always being very creative with this semi-tonal energy that spreads out of the can of beans with expired date on the back of the pack quickly opening and eating itself up until nothing is left but an empty fridge and shining lights from broken light bulbs


No more

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Loving Memory.”

…only lead to a shocking discovery that she had left a suicide note inside her diary, signed and dated March 10, 2013. In almost two years, no one has looked for her or reported her missing, not even…

…Lost and found – but who’d lost her?…


…the note said: “I don’t want anyone to know. The last thing I wanna do is bother you all. I’m sorry…”

…”…she even stated, at one point of the note, that she went somewhere where she wouldn’t disturb anyone.”…

Talking to herself, there’s no one else who needs to know…” – (Pearl Jam, Better Man)

…but her family was unable to comment…

“No one had seen it coming. She always kept to herself”

…case closed.

on the bus

heavy sound followed by smoke, slowly turning wheels and old machinery, a blue metal box, plasticized on the outside and crowded with people within, the air in it full of what we already know: tired people going to work, hands full of smartphones and heads full of uniformity. some trying to minimize the conversation with others, others trying to start one in a sharing situation. Looking through the smudged window; wiping it with your sleeve so you’d get a clear view when there’s actually nothing to see except empty land, broken road signs and a plain white line. sometimes you’re hungry; sometimes you’re sleepy. sometimes you read headlines over people’s shoulders. sometimes there’s an empty seat. most times your ankles get sore. but one is for sure: there’s no getting out until the driver opens the door.