omnibusjeremius

i. if I had known I would die tonight, I think I would've kissed her. I think I would've told her to stay with me under the umbrella for just a moment longer instead of letting her walk into her home with a flash of a smile back to me and a "get home safe." I think I would've pressed that button on the handle letting the umbrella collapse above us, fall to the pavement, let the torrential rain soak us, and I know I would've kissed her before she had the chance to say something. I know I would've let the rain just pour down on us while we kissed there, until she pulled away and laughed – god, I loved her laugh – u

i. if I had known I would die tonight, I think I would've kissed her. I think I would've told her to stay with me under the umbrella for just a moment longer instead of letting her walk into her home with a flash of a smile back to me and a "get home safe." I think I would've pressed that button on the handle letting the umbrella collapse above us, fall to the pavement, letting the torrential rain soak us, and I think– I know I would've kissed her before she had the chance to say something. if I had just known I would die tonight I know I would've let the rain just pour down on us while we kissed there, until she pulled away a

Six white washing machines on the right wall, seven white dryers on the left, and two rickety white tables in the middle for folding. Post-it-notes on the lids of two of the washers, warning “cold water only.” Knobs missing on three of the dryers, perpetually stuck on “Heavy duty: extremely high heat,” or more honestly, “Shrinks clothes by three full sizes.” A window on the far wall, framing dead sidewalk plants, and the apartment dumpsters. The dryer lint brush on the windowsill, its bristles flattened, tangled with fluffs of old lint, its handle mangled, chewed like a dog toy. On Saturday mornings,

Coming to a sudden halt on the glistening subway stairs, I retracted my umbrella and stared downward at the woman lying against the foot of the bottom step, completely still, cocooned haphazardly in a blood-red plaid blanket, only revealing her head of thin, gray hair, her whole face planted against cardboard. Near her feet sat a single wrinkled grocery bag filled with what looked like a ragged sweatshirt, coiling around bottles of Hennessy and granola bar wrappers. At the whim of the clouds, the pouring rain started to cascade down the filthy stairs and soon she and her bag of belongings were islands in an ocean of cold, black water, which s

crude paper airplanes hop-scotch chalk stains gutter-blocked bowling lanes falling-off-your-bike pain puppy-love migraines stocking-stuffing candy canes puddle jumping in the rain watching mom pasta-strain little red wagon trains surveying new terrains living out our free rein overcoming the mundane with sweet, innocent, unstained minds.

Kuebiko. (n.) A state of exhaustion inspired by acts of senseless violence I walked upon blood-stained sidewalks, kicking bullet shells into the streets, questioning the goodness of people and pondering the transience of life. I stumbled upon body bags with the zippers zipped up to the necks of the victims, and I could see the faces of the strangers whom I didn't know but still loved dearly. Somehow. Somehow I saw myself in the face of a teenager, shot in the heart, his eyes still open, staring into the blue clouds above me and searching for something he had once believed in. His mother lay beside him. His father was not too far off. My kn

we have so little time to make so much of. and in this little time that we have, i'd like to be something to you, if i may. something- whatever you want most, if i could be that. and at all times, i'd like to be as near to that something as i can, in your eyes. and if i fall short of the mark, i will surely never tire of trying. and if i try hard enough, maybe one day - maybe i can be your everything.

the graffiti on her collarbones, the improper markings of an outcast, were hastily damned to the fine-toothed appraisal of the layman's eye. the gentleman in his Italian suit, the lady in her embroidered dress, scoffed in reproach and implored their children to keep their distance and shut their gaping mouths. she left the ribbons in her hair and refused to cover the swirling labyrinth of ink on her skin, the poignancy of her broken past, the quintessence of her. and the flowing calligraphy gracing her shoulders, the floral patterns beneath, the splotched coloration, and the bold roman numerals marking the number of times that - it all

You must forget me, for the tides will change to the moon's whim, and I refuse to be the riptide that holds you back from new land. And know that it will take all of the strength that feebly flows through my veins to set you free and let you swim to new shores.