jaxzdice
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Writing
Before the Storm
“Bitch.” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel as his teeth clench tight to the cigarette smoldering between his thin lips.
Breya, Boys with Guitars, and the Peace Park
There’s the door. I push it open and am instantly hit with the Japanese air: 95 degrees, so humid you can feel push when you walk, and for the first time ever: refreshing
Thoughts on God, Perfection, and the Human Condition
I’m not crying because I’m sad, or angry, or hurt: I’m crying because God smashes right into you.
Progression: Flight 854 to LA
I hear chanting voices projected into my mind / Through this dark tubing, / As the jealous zealot angels would cry. For here I sit, / Above the parched soul of neutral coloring
