Writer in San Francisco, CA
The sun burns up,
leaves begin to brown.
How the eyes look onward
into a horizon painted red.
Colors bleed and press
against my eyelids
until they are all I see.
If you are reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!
I hope that you will return in the future!
-Alina
Blood boiling; a silent rage. The endless night as it infects and poisons itself. How silence cuts through words, making them bite sized and swalloable.
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If you’re reading this thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my writing. I hope you will return in the future.
-Alina
The light that boils and sears the flesh. The eyes are blinded. And still there is darkness
around the edges, living in shadows and drifting through the mind. Hot heat and bright
lights do not fully distinguish the cool darkness that is still alive.
If you’re reading this Thank You for taking time out of your day to read my writing!
I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
Folded up and placed away. The note began to fade as the years went by. Moving from book to book, placed higher and higher on the shelf until it made it’s way to the attic. Now dead and gone, relatives search for valuables and vital documents. Rustling in the dark, the note waits to be picked up, to be read once again. Finally little hands grasp it, crunchy and smashing. Till the words begin to tear. “What is that in your hands? Throw that away! It’s garbage!” The note is tossed in a garbage bin full of moldy doilies and romance paper backs.
Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my writing! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
Feels like a sad poem but honestly I was in a very good mood while writing this.
Rain falling, times passes on.
We all wash away, down the street,
down the gutter, into the depths
of the Earth.