The Dance

I wrote this last semester during one of my classes.

Copyright Reagan Dyer 2014

A mash of mixed up words
all the music coming strong and fast,
the pain thick on my tongue.
But on and on we dance.

The world is all become red
with white-hot flashing lights.
The voices have become a blur
that spill out in the night.

I want to say something,
but the words die on my lips.
Do I deserve this thing?
The world begins to tip.

A nightly tradition we carry out,
spinning round and round again.
The tune beats inside my head,
each note a throb of pain.

But while the music carries on,
I know I have no chance
to duck his flying, bloody fist
before we break this deadly dance.


Bulletin Stories: War is Hell

Like I mentioned in my previous post, I have various pictures tacked up on my bulletin board and I have written something about each one.


"I want to kiss him.  I want to kiss his mouth and make him forget––forget everything he has seen; every horror he has witnessed; every injury he has sustained.  Every person he has killed.  For a couple seconds, I want to kiss him, hard, and then I want to lose myself in those eyes."


I am not a very good blogger.  At all.

I justify myself by saying that I am a better college student, but I'm not sure if that's true.  Anyway I have been trying to write [mostly in The Lightcatcher, but I have new idea as well], which hasn't been all that successful.  So I have started tacking up random pictures on my bulletin board in my dorm room.  Underneath each of these, I have written a sentence or several just about the picture in general.

It is a way for me to be creative without committing to a lot of work, and it has been wonderful.  So I think I'm going to start putting them up here for y'all to see as well.