guess im online now

 <march>     You can tell when someone recently cried, all you have to do is look at their eyes. When I saw her under her brightly colored umbrella in the gray intersection, I knew someone or something broke her heart. She fought against the downpour coming down her eyes, whilst the umbrella did the same from above.      The concierge told me to come back after a while, a while that he did not define. Without any choice, I left through the wooden front door, the bells chiming as I departed. When I left the hotel, the rain clouds came and dominated the once blue skies. Some motel guests rushed past me to take cover in the lobby, a place I knew I was not welcomed. Without anywhere else to go, I stepped into the rain. I did not have an umbrella, so I got a well deserved shower, cleaning away God-knows-what. Without anywhere else to go, my right foot led as my left followed into an unknown. I meandered around the town square because I had nothin...

<intermission> Sitting in a motel lobby in front of the desk with a variety of brightly colored pamphlets from the Department of Tourism, he finds himself half-awake on the sectional couch. An atomic family from the suburbs of Minnesota stare at the horror of a seemingly limp body inhabiting the same room as them. It's only a groan from that body that prevents them from calling the city morgue.  The clean cut father begins a conversation with the motel's receptionist. "What's wrong with that fella?" The receptionist looks over his desk, looking at the unkempt man at the seating area. "Oh, him? He wasn't able to pay for another night in an actual room, so I let him rest on that couch while my manager is not working. The man is quite nice when you strike a conversation with him, and he does not really cause any trouble. Anyways, did you have a reservation?" "Yeah, it's under the name "Walters." But seriously, are you gonna let ...

<television> The sound of the audience created the illusion that I was not alone, but no one was watching me. I still could not sleep. Darkness never seem to arrive when I desired it. The television was a pathetic excuse for a remedy.  As a child, the television gave me comfort. It was the centerpiece to my childhood bedroom. I could tell you the TV schedule every weekday from the time I got home from school to midnight. I rarely had to change the light bulbs in my room, the blue light from the television radiated in my dark room every night.  As I grew older, however, I felt too tired to even turn it on. Instead, I would just leave my curtains opened and peer out into the world outside my room. Sometimes at night, I had a clear view of the moon. I would stare at it for hours, thinking about its size. How could something so big look so small? I found myself opening the curtains of the motel room.  I searched for the moon, but I only saw my reflection in the cold dar...

<leather>  Picking at the leather of the passenger seat, my eyes avoided the driver of this car. The windows emit the cold from the outside, and the condensation creates a hazy image of the world outside. The world outside is a road, solitude in nature. It snakes through hills and valleys of the former American frontier, a land untainted by the noisiness of the east and the attitude of the west. I pick but I do not tear.   The man driving reminds me of the image of my brother, or how I would imagine he would look like. His youthful eyes glare from a matured and grizzled face. I never my brother, I am sure we would have gotten along. My mother always said so, and I believed her. He joined the navy while I was still in the womb. The ship he was in sunk in the Pacific before he could even return for Christmas during his first year. The day the men came to our doorstep to deliver the news was the day I was born; my mother had became so distraught that I had to get out o...

 <shattered white>     The fluorescent lights of the bus station kept me up, but sleeping on a bench is not always ideal anyway. In my stalemate with my self-diagnosed insomnia, thoughts are translucent and my comprehension of the past, and likewise the future, has been at the all time low. I don't remember how I got to this bus station. I don't know where I am going to go next.       Aimless is a word that comes to mind. Life consists only of my responses to external stimuli. I leave no footprint on this earth, yet I am an overtrodden path. Now, struggle dominates. A struggle to understand where I am, who I am, and what I could be. First, I need to understand my location.       The bus station isn't too big, and only one apathetic employee is working at the booth. Looking outside the window, it is not exactly night. More of a prelude to a quiet morning. The stars are out against an awakening dark blue as the sun slo...