Art

We are the stories we tell ourselves.

Yusuf believed in magic; that was his thing. He saw things that his brothers could not see. One day, he told his dad about his dreams. His father said, “Don’t tell your brothers, Son.”

The world is full of magic. There is hope for people who believe in what is True. While some may find it buried in the earth, others find it floating in their dreams.

I knew the villains of my nightmares. One had yellow teeth and claws and purple hair. He lived in basements, ones with wooden doors. The lights were always off, and it was night. And there were two black figures. Shadows. They could chase me faster than the speed of light. And there was one–the dream I can’t forget. My mother calls me and she begs for help. I run to her. But then, I see her eyes. She starts to laugh. It’s not my mother, though It seems to be.

And these are from back when I was having lots of fun.

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