I love to read. I have always loved to read but it has been awhile.  I have so many stories inside my head.  They are constant…short stories that never reach the light of day.  Many of them just daydreams that fade away.


I sat staring at myself

Thinking of reality

How it reflects on my face

Nobody really knows

The real story of me

Puzzle pieces missing

Never complete

The sadness I see

Left inside this image

Starting right back at me


I am hiding

Behind a frozen mirror

Waiting for my smile

To warm my reflection

When I finally look

I imagine dark eyes

They won’t know me

My image will vanish

As I fall behind the glass

Into another world


I ran into Alice

We chatted some

Then I said, honey

Mom is searching

She smirked at me

Rolled her pale blues

And said thank you

For reminding me

I bid her Adieu

With a pallid candor


I decide to book a room

In a gingerbread house

The bread is burnt

So I lay my head

Down on an ashy bed

And cover myself

In roses, wilted and white

All the guests are wearing

Different colors, mostly sad

A bed of flowers among the dead


Shower running, music playing

I splash my face, washing away

Daydreams of a different day

Worlds play inside my mind

Feeding me stories, asking to stay

So many words waiting to paint

Pictures of lives not yet born

The creator of their fates

Their reflection staring back

This mirror, my image, their gate 

~Hastywords 06/2013


  1. I had wondered where you had gotten too, I like the poem the way you moved the story back and forth, I also love fantasy…


  2. Thanks you much for the fine article of wich much information I have been needing is inside of. I will be sure to pay much visits and atention to all future articles of such good information. Keep up with the good hard work. And speaking of hard, I have for selling some magic pills that will make you like a tree in your soft areas. Only fifty glabotniks for a bottle that will give you much happy pants for a long time.
    play the game or I will just keep spam-bombing you…


  3. Wonderful piece of honest written work, hasty!

    You followed your heart
    as fear struck you hard,
    the ending of new start
    you’re afraid not a coward.

    Step through you image
    hanging on a wall mirror.
    A difference in dated age,
    own love you’re in their gate.

    love chris


  4. Pingback: A reply to hasty post; | jensenempire

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