still.one.still.6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
her name is alice. there is a slight blood stain on the valley where her lips part, and her eyes are two supermassive black stars that can't show anything but hurt. she can't bring herself to look in the broken mirror puddles that are all over the ground.
(and i don't blame her)
she borrows her mother's raincoat because it smells like home. not the homes that are flooded with laundry soap or soft candles burning in the family room, but more like the paint she spilled on the carpet, or the whiskey on her father's breath.
(and sometimes, she swears she can smell her mother's sadness.)
when alice was little she remembers playing freeze tag with her mother. she remembers feeling anxious, and now she feels sick. "if daddy touches you, stay still, and don't make a sound."
theShe slowly curved our insides to a mass of empty breaths, and when finally we would exhale and exhale, fight and desperately seek meaning in our wispy, airy contractions, nothing would come of them. A different way of saying: she had a death in me. Her hair, of red pine and willow leaves in autumn would sit lightly on her pale skin and oh, small shivers would stand still against my spine the6 years ago in Historical More Like This
Her knees were colourless; lines threw their bones into an awkward shape of round, what would normally fit wholly unusual, between her slender branches of legs and arms. Eyes, what could anything be said of them save for their lack of meaning? But yet, which could only entrance and bewilder. It was an illness that would only impale us, those, you and I - who could see the wonderment in such ordinary flesh. I cant quite think of the times Ive
dreamed you whole.
Once Being, Youi dont think i can ever forgive you for killing yourself in front of me,Once Being, You6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
inside of me
i dont think i will ever be able to forgive you for snatching away those Parts of me,
the breaths and words and seconds and disgust of Me,
the silence and hope and anger and love of Me
with your silk-wetted fingers of Me
drowning all in the fire that swallowed you,
that ate you, The dripping sweetly You,
The you with eyes that closed softly like dying moths,
The you with eyes that closed hard and sharp like double portcullises,
The you that breathed the fire hungry and willed it to feast,
The you that dug your grave in the sky.
i think you wanted me to follow but i refused to be murdered
even by a haunting so with full Beauty;
Every time i see your reflection
i feel my wounds raw shivering
my wounds shiver raw screaming:
pieces of gone now trying to be
pieces of something more like
armor that i wear to protect the (birth growing, re) Self
or medicine to stop the bitter pa
April's HouseThe man who would be my lover through April had a daughter.April's House10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I showed her Playboys from 1999 and she grabbed at my breasts.
In mid-April my lover's grandmother died in a Michigan hospital.
The night before we had hurried sex on a friend's floor and in his shower.
I lay naked on a dark blue couch watching B list horror movies
with names like Frankenhooker and drank carbonated strawberry wine.
The floor was covered in empty Bacardi bottles and powdered Cheetos
while the bathroom smelled of concentrated bleach and urine.
I could crawl out onto the flat tarry roof through a second story window.
On the fourth of July I sat on the functionless brick chimney and got high.
The roof in South Oakland always reminded me of Mary Poppins.
Vodka coursing through my blood, I danced like a chimney sweep.
A man with bleached hair and long nails filed to a point walked me home.
He said, Margaret, I want you, and I knew I had stayed in a house full of lies.
Eat"Oy, let me see your calorie card!" The skinny man at the hotdog stand demanded, holding my hotdog just out of reach.Eat5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I sighed and dug the plastic out of my pocket, handing it to him with a sour grimace on my face. I was sure I had already exceeded my allotted 1500 calories for today, but I was just so darn hungry. Seriously, what was one hotdog going to do to my figure anyway?
He shook his head as he swiped it through the scanner. "Sorry girlie. This hot dog is 242 calories. You only have 10 calories left for today." He shooed me away in preference of those with enough calories on their card to afford his food.
My stomach grumbled its complaints all the way home. If I had really wanted that hotdog I could have gone to the gym and earned more calories on my card, but I really wasn't in the mood for exercise.
It started in California, taking hold among the mothers who didn't want their kids to become fat
ThiefLies, he told me as I sipped a tart, Apple Burst tea. Apple Burst, they called it, and I thought it appropriate.Thief6 years ago in Erotic More Like This
His hand slipped.
It Burst to the floor, abandoning the liquid in Apple-blood flames.
I wont tolerate all of this flavor, he claimed, a slender, coarse finger circling the rim. My hand remained still, in a death grip, to an invisible frame.
I reached out for him, an apologetic reply hanging on my tongue.
No, he turned to me, his hand grazing my throat, veins swelling from his skin. You were never sorry, he griped, thrashing out a menacing look.
My heart hung from a wire.
And he was weaving it through.
I swallowed halfway. Halfway, it was, like he held a notch in my throat; this light-switch life, at his leisure to disengage.
Hurt? Sarcastic pity glossed over his eyes. I looked at him, my night in shining armor, once strong enough to hold his own sword. What weighed on him now? The poison resentment, serve
SpeakI think my footsteps are brokenSpeak5 years ago in Other More Like This
No sound through my sole
Something permeated deaf
Into this little heart
I think my lips are sealed
Hot wax of defeat
Not that words would project anyway
Because I think Ive lost my tongue
Where could they be?, my hands
Numbing in vibrations
And Ive no inclinations
That theyre showing what Ive planned
Taut and hollow, mine own voice
Tied down, overwrought, mine own hands
Clip clop, dont hear my feet
And its not because Im just discreet
Cant you hear me?
ExodusMoses and his people wandered forty yearsExodus6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the desert in search of a promised land
full of milk and honey and God.
I wandered for forty minutes
in the desert in search of a trailer
full of beer cans and flies and my father.
No leather sandals, but rubber tires serve
as a boundary between the dirt and me.
No flight from Egypt, but only an obligation
to see the man who was once my Pharaoh.
No fiery pillar to light my way, just the sun
that urges me to find shelter from the heat.
In my mind I used to liken him to a God.
If ever he was one, he is fallen now,
a vain idol with a few dried flowers on the altar,
a simple wooden caricature of the man
I had loved so overwhelmingly that it seemed
Id be broken to pieces for love of him.
He stinks of fresh beer and stale cigarettes.
The former is a new stink, the latter a familiar one.
He wears my fathers face and has his voice,
but the blue eyes are shallow and a little cold,
like the eyes of a long-absent relative
who barely remembe
This Conversation Took Eons"I can control you," he said, gravitational fingers lurching into my bouldered skin and pulling bits of me away.This Conversation Took Eons5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I made it rain that day and killed three thousand and forty six people, just because I could.
"What is wrong with you?" his voice sank as the waters became weighted with people. He pulled the tides higher and washed the visible pain into the form of debris.
"They'll never forget though," I used the stars to point out my flaws and my current disaster, "because they're dead."
"Why do you do that?"
"What's wrong with me?" I asked innocently, stirring up another hurricane with my pinky.
It was all some sort of amusement to me. He was glaring at me with those fake diamond eyes and wishing for a meteor to smash into my dimpled frame. I know he wants me dead. Ever since those dinosaurs, he hasn't quite forgiven me, like I can control the death of over-populated reptiles.
"I am orbiting your bulging equator. I will always just be orbiting you," he pauses and ties my tallest m
Little DreamI used to have a dream that I was standing on top of a building, looking out over a vast city.Little Dream6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The city was shining in the sunlight, glittering a hundred shades of color like an elegant glass figurine in a display case. And all throughout this city, perfect people moved with clockwork rhythm in their daily lives, going through the same motions and performing the same actions day after day after day.
While I stood on that building, no one ever looked up. No one ever appeared curious, or thoughtful, or concerned with the world around them. They all wore painted smiles and unblinking eyes, and keys in their backs seemed to be their main motivation for moving. Their movements were fluid, but they sometimes moved with a kind of jerky action that reminded me of puppets tangled on their strings.
I remember shouting at them, trying to get their attention. "Look around you!" I screamed. "Look at the sky! Look at the clouds! Look at each other! Just look!"
But no one ever did. They continued wit
291010early autumn is spreading her legs for winter and2910104 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my breath reaches the stale air
like celtic knots, writhing in shapes of
there are subtle clouds
shrouding the sky
and hushed rosemary wind
time spent on wondering which words exist,
peach blossom in a sky of tapering velvet
we both look above
in search of a god, or stars which belong on your teeth
she was is could be a sunset and
he is the sunrise
blissful history, sheltered and surreal
a spine which kisses shower
pupils like a eclipsed moon
arrowed by cupid,
misanthropic and so sudden,
can you talk without it breaking glass?
soothed and sullen cheeks, ribs
attached to a sphinx laying
like stray cats, fingernails wander
blunder and bludgeon
bruises of rhubarb and custard
prey on pretty bones
All His Milestones On FilmAll His Milestones On FilmAll His Milestones On Film6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Starring Sanjay Dutt as Sand and Shadow
Ta-da: his childhood came unwrapped
like his mothers parcel at the boarding school
set in hills far north of Dehli.
It has to be said he was brilliantly packaged
- in silver and stretched,
a song on religious ecstasy
played with a spoon on foil,
The projector's pur
grew coarser with each flicker.
In this cage, every feature
is a première to her, every detail
apprehended for the first time
Soot came up when the silk was torn,
up from thirteen streets in Bombay,
up like the sand when child's castle
is kicked down.
He became a creeping figure,
a shadow, a smudge,
grit on the reel.
If only she could restore him,
replace each shell on the battlements
but no. The boy is spread on celluloid like a sand angel.
Dust and a pistol are all his remains.
And in truth, she is dust,
billowing between frames.
AliceAlice pranced about upon a thin cordAlice5 years ago in Other More Like This
Down a rabbit hole she did spill
Drip drip drip, a trail in curiosity
It could have been a man in fuzzy slippers
Checking the time
My own little pocket watch
Reminds me that all things arent quite so fixed
When its broken
I am not illuminated by darkness
Though some are entranced by the greater fear
Stray away from happiness even though its always here?
I dont think so ,I dont think so.
Dont follow me you copycat
Even though she follows copycritter
And splashed her noose round, oh so bitter
Original! a demand
So I turn a different color
My thoughts linger over the fact
That if its a good song, I should be able to listen to it.
The Sum of Some PartsYou're razorblade kissesThe Sum of Some Parts5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and cyanide smiles
and all the mean little parts of me
that I keep trying to destroy.
You're the scratch in the throat
and the grit in the eyes
and the old burn that doesn't heal
no matter how much salve you put on it.
You're splinters beneath nails
and knives between ribs
and the rabbit-punch to the gut
that leaves me reeling and gasping for air.
You're the jaw wired shut
and the hands lopped off
and the feet hobbled at the ankles
so I can't run or write or scream.
You're the remnant of my past
and the ghost of my future
and that long-absent companion
I worry will always come back.
You're the one who spoke first
and taught me to hide from light
and to flee to the darkness
because no one ever loved me like you did.
You're the one who kicked me
and cursed me
and said I was nothing
but still never gave me up.
You're the jealous lover
and the tyrant
and the one who hid me away
so no one else could have me.
You're the one who broke my spirit
and made me want to die
The Time He Made Nature SilentOnce upon a time, a long while before you or I or the President was born, the world was quite different. In those days, animals, rocks, and plants could talk, but that made things quite confusing in the long run, since no one could walk on grass or hunt for his dinner without entering into intense negotiations that could last for days. After a few years of this, mankind got a little fed up with the constant bickering and decided that there had to be a way to get everything to just shut up and bend to its will.The Time He Made Nature Silent6 years ago in Humor More Like This
Now, mankind knew it couldnt ask the animals to become silent so it could hunt them (because that would turn into a debate), nor could it ask rocks and plants to keep their mouths shut, either. Since asking nicely wouldnt work (and negotiations were always getting tied up in red tape) mankind decided to send out a representative to find a solution to their troubles.
Because names were less interesting in those days, our representative was a man named Ted. (Not to say,
Stream-of-Consciousness_4Theres something lonely in sitting in a crowded cafeteria and eating alone. Well, I suppose thats the definition of lonely isnt it? Being alone? But there are times when Im alone and I dont feel lonely. It only seems to be the presence of other people, people who are so obviously Other, that I feel like Im the only one excluded from a very private party. And its funny because I never thought of myself as someone who really wanted to go to the party anyway, but when youre on the outside looking in the grass seems a little greener on the other side of the fence. Heh, how many overused metaphors can I put into one silly stream-of-consciousness list before my mind finally screams Enough! at the top of its lungs? Well, I suppose thats impossible, as the mind itself has no lungs, but certainly you get the principle of the idea. Its always important to have principles, after all, even if you dont have etStream-of-Consciousness_45 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
A Four-Year-Old's PhilosophyAnyone who has ever had a philosophical conversation with a four-year-old knows that it typically breaks down in utter boredom and the desire for a new toy. Most kids don't even like to discuss anything more than their own personal world and have very little patience for anything outside of their own comprehension.A Four-Year-Old's Philosophy6 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
My nephews seem to be the exception to this.
True, they don't have the greatest grasp on reality. Seth, after all, is still convinced that I actually turn into a horse when I get down on all fours and make "horsey noises." Evan is a little more logical; he tells me quite plainly that I'm "only pretending" and can't actually be anything more than his slightly eccentric aunt. Not to say that he doesn't enjoy pretending that I'm his personal steed, but he'll tell me who I am all the same. For the most part, both boys have learned the basic rules of reality and if they can be broken.
Evan has become the greatest source of philosophical fodder in the last year or so. Once,
ExpectationOh, so here we are againExpectation6 years ago in Other More Like This
Same old fight and fiend
Same old bite and grind
Here we are again
Goodness, just a little snow
Just a little perspiration
Dont go off on where youre from
Cuz Here we are again
Oh! Cant breathe, cant breathe today
Oh! Here we are again
Oh here we are again
Cant step up, step up today
Same old song, whats to say?
Cant stay long, be brave be brave
Cuz here we are again
Inebriating to Remember LoveI used to head downInebriating to Remember Love5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to the pub on main.
We'd meet up; we'd watch
the game through
the snow on the screen.
Decipher lisped play-by-plays
and sometimes, decipher wrong.
As I swished the ale around
my sweating glass, he'd walk in.
5:22 p.m -- his late-at-night;
eyes half alive and his life, half dead.
A shuffled symphony,
while finding his never-usual seat.
his shoulders with doubt
as the news manages to cut in.
There, he'd order his usual;
whiskey, its warmth, a foil
to his lethargy.
Despite seeing him
on all the occasions of my visits,
I observe him;
each time he arrives,
in between football plays
and dismal economic forecasts.
Anxiety dissolves into drunken smiles,
as he sips on, two, three, eight glasses.
One is never enough.
as they lurch
along the moist bar,
hoping to get just another shot.
"I think I have to cut you off."
I don't think any insult
could enrage him any more quickly.
Tonight, I am his personal usher
because he s
AnesidoraWisps of inhumanity carve out spiteful words into my earthen insides; carefully clawing to the top of my neck. My seal is mangled and unkempt but it withholds the travesties that lie within and, for that, I am grateful. Her inquisitive eyes pry at my seams then pluck at them like petals; for now she is content to guess. To wonder, to crave of what lies inside--an ill-fated gift placed into cruel and longing palms.Anesidora5 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I struggle to cry out to her, as trembling and naïve hands manage to place fragile fingertips upon my surface, No, Pandora! Don't!
Stream of consciousness 2People usually write things about life in general. Life is like a butterfly, life is like the sun, and other analogies. I have come to the realization that there are different types of life that just can't be explained by one thing. I do know of things that are possible, though. I know that each life can be tempered and tainted like a clear cup of water having just a single drop of dye added. I know two lives can be like chemicals when they meet and fire's added: something new is created. I know not, however, what these changes are. They happen different for each individual. The sun may rise like a baby being born but I know not whether the sun will appear later as a sunset or if it will dance around the sky. A butterfly might escape from its' cocoon but I know not what patterns are on its' wings and where it will fly. Chemicals might react but I know not whether they will just tolerate one another as separate beings which are simply put together or if they will combine as one, new cheStream of consciousness 25 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
Hanging SilenceThe sky is only half-litteredHanging Silence5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(for our satellites have fallen)
with stars and my breath
(deep inside our chest)
isn't fogging up
(unhiding things our eyes would unsee)
the driver side window
(things we're unwilling to divest).
In the DetailsThe night was dark and cold when I locked up the shop and slipped the key into the pocket of my jeans. The buses werent running this time of night, and I only lived a few blocks away, so I decided to walk it. I turned up my coat collar to guard my neck and shoved my frozen hands into my pockets. As the wind blew stray hairs into my face, I caught sight of a man in a long black coat standing beneath a streetlight, smoking a cigarette and looking at me.In the Details6 years ago in Spiritual & Occult More Like This
I knew who he was. I also knew I wanted nothing to do with him. Id have to walk past him to go down the street, so I focused my eyes past him and pretended like I didnt see him standing there. He gave a short laugh and fell into step beside me. I knew it wouldnt do any good to tell him to get lost.
The man in black took a long drag on his cigarette as we walked along the street. Rough night? he commented when he saw the scowl on my face.
It was all right until you showed up.