creative writing
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The screen glowed in the 2:30 AM stillness, a sudden star in the domestic dark of his bedroom. Her text bloomed, then vanished, a digital ghost that left its afterimage on his retinas. Arlo fumbled for the phone, pressing it awake. He didn’t bother with his glasses; his nearsightedness was a loyal servant in the…
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of course you said we& so i unlearned my own namefor the shape of an us only to findthe space between your hello& your goodnightis an oceanwhere i amdrowning alone. you have your houseyour children a steady chorusin the same keyyou have the same wallsthat have held other voices& called it home. & me?i have…
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In war, you wear two faces—casualty, survivor. In peace, only one remains, and it weighs heavier. Pain drifts in—neither enemy nor friend,a shadow castby the flickering lamp of existence. A war without armies,fought in silence,where each breath is deathand resurrection. The lungs whisper, why?No answer comes. Eyes in the dark—promising nothing,searching endlesslyfor the fracture that…
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“It’s been seven hours and fifteen days,” (Sinéad O’Connor, Nothing Compares 2U)or 2191 days if you’re the kind who needs the math, since you walked in like you owned the placeand bent me into a kind of happy I didn’t trust but wanted anyway.It only needed water, we thought.Turns out it needed a whole lot…
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“Chancho. When you are a man, sometimes you wear stretchy pants.” Nacho Libre Nacho Libre drops that gem on his sidekick while getting busted in his luchador tights, and damn if it didn’t sneak-attack my brain the other day. Picture this: I’m crawling along the freeway, soul-crushing traffic turning my car into a rolling therapy…
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Piernas de viento,largas,cruzando el filo donde el aire sangra. Las lágrimas esperan,quietas como cuchillos en la mesa,pero tú no paras,ni miras atrás. Las piedras lloran por ti,rezan un Padre Nuestroque nunca acaba.Repites el guiondel sufrirpor unosolo. Te espero.Lo sabes.Te vale apenas más que nada,el despojo que queda de mí. De la flaca no me guardo…
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I wished for you to arrive in the shape of a moment,not planned—just… happened.But time, ever cryptic, wore the wrong watch that day.I didn’t know you were already walking through my frequency,your presence trembling inside a missed ring,a number that never belonged to us. No, not ours.Let me trace it again in ink instead of…
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It’s Wednesday. The world’s on hold—Wall Street holds its breath like a priest before confession,waiting on the Fed to whisper its gospel of rates.The headlines scroll with conflict:dust devils of sand and sorrow between Iran and Israel,while a man in a white hat chants a forgotten hymnabout greatness, past tense. And me?I’m at Rosebuds, beneath…
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“The moment you have to ask for certainty, you’ve already felt its absence.” bb grey She rose onto her toes, as if by getting just a little closer, she might finally reach the part of him that always felt just out of touch. It wasn’t his height—it was the distance. Still, she reached for him…
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Do you recall the days gone by,Before the net lit up the sky?When phones were fixed upon the wall,And life moved slow, if moved at all. Messages waited by the door,A scribbled note, not something more.No pings or dings to steal the day,Just peace until you made your way. The world was smaller, sure, it’s…
BB Grey--musings 