Seven Shadows (1995)

I:  Death

She stood above me at the top of a long, plush staircase—each stair padded with a thin layer of foam and encased in a red velvet shell—holding the spiritual implement of my death in her sticky, blood-stained hands. Her yellow shirt was paired with white shorts, white knee socks, white shoes, and a white hat. Her smile was matched by the shy innocence reflected in her glassy eyes. Already the look of happy recognition was vanishing from her face as the existence of my memory erased itself from her usually flawless recollection. She saw me not as a friend nor a stranger nor an acquaintance, but as a whisper of wind that touched her cheek and stroked her hair; a cooling breeze on a hot day; a comforting blanket of warmth and understanding on a cold night. She saw my physical being no more and would not miss me because she never knew me. Yet I remembered.

Read more: Seven Shadows (1995)

Dream Dancer (1995)

I cried that evening when we parted; she slipping silently into the comforting cloak of darkness while I drove away into the night bound for my empty shell of a home filled with no one and no thing except meaningless material possessions.  I could still feel her presence beside me even after she left.  She was sitting next to me - curled up - finally wearing the mask of tranquility after an emotional evening.  What was she thinking behind those lying eyes?

Read more: Dream Dancer (1995)

Freedom2 (1994)

Voices were ringing in my head—
Fragments of conversations; photographs of peoples' lives.
Small tidbits of information invaded my essence
then became lost in this massive melting pot of humanity.
It has gotten to the point where my own identity is foreign to me.
Do I have an identity, or am I just a receptacle—a shell
within which people throw bits of themselves
that they no longer care to keep?

Read more: Freedom2 (1994)