Time doesn't affect my mind as it does my body Since then, I've grown older. Matured. I know more and know less than I used to. Back then, I was a boy. I was smaller. Younger. More rash with my words and my fists. Now, I have papers affirming my ability to drive a car, … Continue reading Time (poem)
What follows is a hypothetical created for entertainment during a 40-minute car ride on the way home from school. We sat in a metal frame with wheels, travelling at 36 metres per second. Matt held the steering wheel with two fingers. His red t-shirt struggled to cover his belly. I couldn't see his daughter in … Continue reading Car crash: a hypothetical
Sean sat in the line. It resembled a queue one would stand in inside a coffee shop. The only difference was that many people were screaming, and everyone wore shackles, regardless of whether they had legs or not. Apparently they'd run out of anesthetic. Sean couldn't understand a word they were saying, but he got … Continue reading I put the title at the end (pt. 2 of 2)
His feet left the plane's wing. Winds buffeted him. Hanging on to the edge of the aircraft, Harold screamed. The sound was whipped from his lips by the ferocious torrent of air tearing at his fingertips. African mountains that usually dominated the skyline sat waiting to meet him, kilometres below. In an immense show of … Continue reading A scene that should be in the next Mission Impossible
Sean watched through the coffin's frosting glass, as an alien armada replaced what had been the continent of Europe with a brown smudge. Entire nations were reduced to sludge by the brilliant beams of energy launched from near invisible spacecrafts of societies far superior to our own. The moment before his eyes shut, numbness seeped … Continue reading I put the title at the end (pt. 1 of 2)
The melodious undertone that occurs in the background as I work, eat and read. The shape of my eyes, viewed by Westerners and Asians alike as the other. The source of a few puns relating to the different meanings of "tie"* The words fall incomprehensible on my ears, reduced from thoughts to music. They have … Continue reading Thai (poem)
There is freedom in the written word. I can voice thoughts -without actually voicing them. One who writes is an author. I am the author of my own reality. Let me take that pen, And start another line.