"At the Dawn of Time" | Digital Art | 2015
"I paint with words and write with images."
At the dawn of time, visual arts was born, holding its breath until words joined it. Together, they move the senses with a reckless force only matched by nature. I sometimes meld the two to create one experience, and other times let them each forge their separate paths. Music, the elusive ghost, often accompanies me on my creative journey.
On the Road to Eternity | Volume 1
A Sad Sense of Belonging | Volume 2
Halfway Down the Lane | Volume 3
"Staring at the Rain" | Digital Art | 2016
Where all the Years Melt into One
The piano cries waterless tears
as silent raindrops soak the windows;
the sky a sheet of polished pewter,
the branches pacing shadows.
My fingers dancing on the ivory,
each note in tandem with a raindrop
as silence hovers in the next room
waiting for sleep to come and claim me.
But I have no plans to surrender
to the allure of black velvet,
as yet another moonless night
envelops me in her embrace.
I peer into the dark and call
out to the memories that roam,
but they lay curled under my dreams,
and will not come until I crumble
into the arms of restless sleep,
where all the years melt into one,
and everything that used to be
returns to taunt and haunt me.
Miami, Florida, August 13, 2016
"Frozen in Time, Lost in Thoughts" | Digital Self-portrait | 2016
No Room Left in Me
There's no room left in me
for regrets, reminiscing, or repetition;
since that which seemed eternal
is now terminal.
My life, my thoughts, my time
to the grand scheme inconsequential.
These days I search for things
that I don't need to keep
in some rusted time capsule
I won't be there to open.
The past that used to beckon
for me to go and visit
I now turn a deaf ear to;
mirages are not real.
And fear, always so near,
is losing all its potency
to loss; which is so real.
All questions left unanswered
I'll toss inside my casket;
the things I leave behind
will not be stained by grief.
Miami, Florida, March 25, 2016
"I am Here, Behind the Mask" | Digital Self-portrait | 2016
Bury My Ghost 6 Feet Deep
It is monochromatic inside me
while my surroundings burst
with the color spectrum.
Cold are my feet,
raw are my hands,
while every blade of grass is ablaze.
My gaze dazed,
my gait crooked,
my brain draining into a basin.
restrained and strained
while my sobs tear open my chest.
Bury my ghost 6 feet deep
as the world weeps for one hour
before it forgets me.
Miami, Florida, 2016