the war
soldier
powerlines
Morning
The Carriage Driver
wreckage
17th floor
hotel room
he used to have so much to say
guttermouth
day at a time
Color
static in our minds
Bowls
beachfront
alien
The Ferris Wheel

silhouettes in rougeCrimson was an ugly word to describe the sky, so he never used it. With the futility of words it was impossible to paint an image of beauty in the destruction that had wrought the seaboard sterile so many decades ago. It had been years since he had any real conversation with someone. His three roommates had all withered away at some point in the past decade, succumbing to either the toxic air or repercussions from the initial attack. At sixty something years of age, he was old, having packed centuries into his lifetime. Everything hurt, and nothing moved; his world, excluding himselfsilhouettes in rouge
Rest Stop
Elevator B
Elevator A