the devil's in the detailsthere’s a beautiful boy sitting on the curbof a street somewhere in that time right beforethe sun sets and his head is in his handsand he’s never looked more beautiful or more aloneand you want to tell him it’ll be fine,that it’ll be okay, that soon he’ll outrun whatever’sdoggin’ his heels, that it may seem crowded nowbut there’ll always be more earththan people, or else we’d be drivingthrough ghosts and the wholepoint of driving is to run away from them.but he doesn’t have the right kind of eyesto believe that. they’re red and bloodshotlike he’s been crying too longto ever listen to you.you don’t sit down next to him. he doesnot expect you to. he may or may notknow you’re even there. if he did,he’d make you leave because you don’tbelong with him, this angel of a boy,you don’t want to put him togetheryou want to watch him finish falling apartbecause broken things
Charred remains of a modern society The little girl was dancing on the street, among the entrails of a once bustling suburb now strewn chaotically across the scorching asphalt. Her blithesome essence shone through her skin, in the whimsical way she twirled and threw her arms in the air, brushing her wayward curls aside. She crafted a dust storm and trapped the sunlight in her eyes, oblivious to the rubble sinking into her toes and the loaded gun in her brothers hand. Bang. She fell, asphyxiated by her own storm as the bullet carved its way into her flesh. And as the last gleam of light left her eyes, poppies blossomed from the cracked pavement, their crowns swaying in the chemical laden wind the way the girl never would again.
CommissionWith a head of inky black hair, a boy scanned the babbling crowd;eyes fullof disdain.Poor little low-lifes,he thought to himself,such ignorant beings with such fragile images.Towering over the wall of screaming children,he merely watched their gamesAs they battered each other withSweaty palmsAnd wonderedIf that were himat one point in his life.A girl with light-brown hair stomped in front of him,cutting him off."Where do you think you're going, smarty-pants."Notevenlooking at her,he stalked on."You're not worth my time."Anger bubbled beneath her pink skinbut he kept goinganyway.A smirkcrawled up his faceas he noticed two hazelnut eyes trying to bear two comet sizedin the back of his head.His steps sounded through the strangelyempty corridoruntil anunusualasian boy skidded into him,vitamin water sloshing dangerously near the edge."Hey..."The boy smiled at him and they continued down the corridor,eachwith their own