"Artificial Emotions: Part 1" By: Erickson A man sweats in a warehouse. His forehead is flooded, and his hands refuse to stop moving. The scent of thick oil balloons into every nostril, the machines crank and squeal and hiss. This man exists in a state of perpetual motion, next to a robotic claw that spins... Continue Reading →
"Main Lion: Part 2" By: EricksonSurroundings constantly speak. Heart, brain, and stomach provide the beat. “It’s my Birthday”, the lion paws the ground.The concept of an anniversary must be buried in the dirt.A pungent sun sets on the two-year-old cub. The growing mane around his face is set as a silhouette. His facial hair transforms... Continue Reading →
"To Work on Time" By: Erickson Steam bellows from my porcelain cup. Just served. White whisps, alterations above a liquid, rattle the air and perfume into a brief heart, before leaving. Puncturing everyday air with love. What sits in the porcelain cup? The cup that breaths in a body of orange meeting yellow. The color... Continue Reading →
There’s a freeway ramp I take that slithers on its own. Breathing, it leads a line of cars astray. It cuts the lanes in half and squeaks me up a spiraling staircase. Four high and bright white lights. They line the twisting ramp, they show me the way to my sleeping quarters, night after night.... Continue Reading →
"Main Lion: Part 1" By: EricksonI look into my father’s eyes.I took my father’s eyes.A maned lion prowls the dirt floor. Its eyes hold miniature black galaxies of potential. They hold him back but provoke him further. Antelopes elope into flying skinny limbs – their side eyes still beam in determination. And a lion cub... Continue Reading →
Note: The following is a work of fiction. Our hearts and minds go out to all the families of the passing individuals, and to the many that lost their homes and parts of their communities. Rest in peace to all the victims that were taken by the Californian wildfires. A man laid on his back... Continue Reading →
"A Sprinting Realization" By: Erickson The structure was a twist of glass, spiraling to God, and hunkered with red and brown stone, that made one envision a humble, yet well-to-do home. The grand building was a University gym, and it held two cars in its lot. One beat up and bullied golden thing,... Continue Reading →
Writing Erickson - Adventure + Writing Blog 