My Cardboard Balcony

I don't believe in such a thing as new beginnings. New beginnings imply starting fresh with no baggage, and in all honesty, to do such would be asking for a full frontal lobotomy before stepping back out into the polluted air of the real world. In fact, I would say going for a new beginning is unhealthy, not only in the fact that to do so would be to erase important lessons from the past, but also in the idea that what you ended was something not remotely beneficial at all. I do understand the importance of being able to live your life as if you've been reborn. Whether it's through religion, romance, a career choice, or simply bailing out of a place with one suitcase and a wad of cash, we all sometimes feel the need to get away and start somewhere else. But that's the thing we have to remember: We still lived those years of our past, and they were still worth something. Even if the only happy moments you can scrape from the wreckage of your previous experiences only a...

Morning Shadows by Belinda Roddie Five thirty in the morning, and my eyes are open. Time for you to put on your face for the day, draw the stiff, starched collar around your throat. Time to brush your teeth until your gums bleed, dip your fingers into the sink's still waters and wipe the shadows from your eyes. You're getting older, dear. The wrinkles say so, and you don't hide your traumas well. A mask wouldn't suit you any better. Smooth out the creases. Let there be the illusion that each day, you are reborn. Six thirty in the morning, and my eyes shut tight. The work you see here has not been edited nor altered since December 2009.

Weaving a tapestry with reds and silvers, she wanted to make the salmon of knowledge gleam upon a sea of blood. While Mother Ireland bled, she worked, as her husband's sword and shield lay rusty with his enemy's plasma beside her. The screams had been shut out of her head long ago. Her son's shadow lay against the wall like a tapestry of its own.