It is August, I smell a school buses or as we say on the streets, September, October, November, December… Christmas! Run…
nature
A Bug’s Light
Like a delicate blossom flower in search of a brilliant star, she was only a light bug in the tip of the golden beach seeking to propel her inner disgust into the ocean.
Queen bee descended into the acropolis towing her latest ornament as a squadron of spiders cocooning her way into the conundrum. Fearlessly chanting her heart out, adrenaline on high gear, she bravely portrayed her soul and confident of her possess, she posed to conquer the caravan. Not intending to be a heroin but an hallucinating immaculate, she giggled her way around, shrugging the lethargic faces.
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The Flower In The Garden
It came to the point that I would look at the refrigerator and it would look back at me, I would say hello and it would reply back, I would ask “what’s for dinner” and it would reply back, “I don’t know. There isn’t much I can do for you.” We went on for a while, repeating the same jargon, looking flashy and studying the script, imagining the day the door would open and I would see the flower in the garden.
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