'Twas the Night Before Trumpmas -- Political parody

'Twas the night before Christmas & all through the land, all the fake news was stirring because real news? So bland!

The tweets were sent out by Donald Trump with no care, in hopes that America could be as great as his hair.

The politicos were nestled all snug up on Capitol Hill, those who trashed Trump before could soon have new jobs -- what thrill!

With Kanye in his Yeezys, fresh out of rehab, onto Trump Tower he went, with Donald Trump he did gab.

Then out here on Twitter there arose such a clatter, tweeples flocked to the Trump feed to see what was the matter.

Away to Trump's timeline, they flew like a flash, wrote up their critiques, and tweeted their trash.

Trump spoke not a word, but went straight to his phone, he was typing with haste, he would make his thoughts known.

"These haters abound!" Trump tweeted like mad. "All losers, all messes, just like Jeb Bush. Sad!"

Trump sprang to his feet, he had appointments to make, he had jobs to give out, and an America to make great.

Rex Tillerson he named his Secretary of State, while MittRomney was left embarrassed for fate.
To the naysayers and liberals, Trump cared not a bit, he would do things his way, as only he would see fit!

Trump greeted the crowds, heard their chants and their cheers. "MAGA!" they shouted, in between all their jeers.

Trump reveled in their cries, he took pride in the sight, their hero he'd be, he would be their white knight.

The flag he would hug, the press he would slam, Trump would dispel all the "haters," Clinton's emails he'd damn.

Then off to the crowd, Trump turned to with great might, "I love you!" Trump cried, with a tone of delight.

Trump smiled with glee, his face became bright. "We have made a great victory, we have fought a good fight!"

Then to Twitter he took, at 3 o'clock in the night, "MAGA to all, and to all a good night!"




she is the ghost that walks the hallways. Her presence hovers like the weight of a bad decision. I can still hear her voice, I can still feel her touch. I can still see her wide smile, I can still remember way her face wrinkled when she was about to cry.

I can still see her eyes.

They are the ones that look back at me every time I look in the mirror, two blue-green beads that could never see a life without her but must now see the world alone. The memories come and go yet each one feels slightly tinged with pain. Smiling photos seem less happy. Accomplishments feel less complete.

I can still keep breathing and I can still keep moving. I have to keep breathing and I have to keep moving. It's all I can do, pushed by instinct and the will to survive.

she is the step I take out the door. She is the breeze I feel. She is a reminder of what was. She is a reminder of what I had. She is a reminder of what is gone.

She is far away.

Too far to laugh with, too far to cry with, too far to hold.


Surrealism Series: Florals

I had been thinking about doing this series for over a year before I actually making the calls and inviting people to be a part of it. As you'll see in the self-portrait section, I actually did this as a solo shot first, in black and white.

These models were incredibly brave and all willing to follow my instructions to a T, even if it meant putting flowers in their mouths for long periods of time. 

There was absolutely no Photoshop used with these images. 

Models: Yanique DaCosta, Macy Higgins, Cam Parker