Hello there!

Welcome to The Dream Archive. I write all kinds of things and catalog them here. I hope you enjoy.

Memories of Her

Her eyes were like the stars:

      Tiny white hot balls of fire, 

      Surrounded by the vast cold vacuum of space

Her hair was like a summer day:

      Moist with humidity,

      Bleached white like bone in the desert sun.

Her skin was like a tropical beach:

      Dry, dirty, touched by a immeasurable amount of people, 

      And possibly harboring small clusters of crustaceans. 

Her demeanor was that of a monarch:

      Erratic, often harsh, and sociopathic, 

      Much like one of the crazier nobles who contracted syphilis and stayed alive too long after.

I'll remember her as I remember my childhood: 

      With large gaps missing, 

      Often plagued by memories of feverish tantrums over trivialities,

      And an oppressive older figure looking down on me and delighting in telling me, "No."

Excuse Me

The Swell and Drag of Tides