silent screams.taste the venom between the smacking
of twin lips as they break their joint spine
and revel in the sound of death drilling
behind your eyelids until alone is a sound
you think you might want to rest in.
close your heart and button up the shutters
and board up the doors until the wind howls
and the chain is beating against the wood
with a hollow sound like a fist knocking,
but you know better, because no one has
knocked on this door since thirteen hundred
days ago when time was starting and you
had fresh pain[t] and a bright smile.
music hurts in the way of your skin peeling
and love is too bright to even look at and
the voice you want to wrap up to swallow
your breath is strangely missing and no
matter how hard you try, this absence
is just the lack of anything and you can't
drown in nothing no matter how
damn much you want to.
your back is in knots and your head is in
pretzels and you're screaming without making
a sound and crying without dropping a tear
and your flesh is melting all
one more step.it's nights like this that make me wish i could gnash mountains between my teeth and drain the stars from the sky. it's nights like this that leave my limbs cold and my hands crackling so i'm on the floor trying to pick up all the pieces littered in the corners. theoretically, if i decompose, i'll find a way to compose myself before morning, but such a composition would never be music to the bleeding composite tongue binding around me.one more step.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
[i'm wailing on the airwaves, trying find the right frequency, but it's hard to hear my thoughts around all the static.]
the wind is too cold for june and my heart is too frosted for the heat of this love charring all my bones. they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but they forgot to mention that it also makes the heart cramp and ache and swell. they forgot to mention that distance maims and time cripples and you'll be dead-exhausted swimming against the tide of wants and desires building up the shorelines around you. you'll collapse on the sand
the sun thief.this is the point i'd like to tell you how i really feel about you:the sun thief.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
this is the point you sit down and shut up and keep your wandering fingers to yourself. put them in your pocket, in your lap, shove them in your mouth, down your throat, in the fire, under the knife. frankly, it doesn't matter to me -- just keep them to yourself. you have a nasty habit of trying to pickpocket emotions that aren't yours to have and trying them on for size when no one is looking. you have nervous fingers that pluck at loose strings to see if you can unravel the tapestry. you have a terrible way of picking at the chipped paint as if you have the power to erase the beauty spread across the sistine chapel. let me clue you in: you don't.
so be quiet, swallow your tongue, understand the forever trapped between the glow of his words isn't for you to capture. you had your chance when the world was new and the passions were leaking out of his pores and you turned away. you had the moment for the span of a breath
show me the meaning.staple my eyes closed and promise me that's the best way to see.show me the meaning.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
press your mouth to mine and breathe poison down my throat, bite my tongue until the blood is dripdripdripping a steady path down to my waiting lungs. backhand me when i choke, call me ungrateful when i try to cough it up again. rip reality from behind my lungs and tell me not to bother with it, tell me i'm mistaken and the world is a lie and the only map i'll ever be able to trust is the rotting directions spewing forth from your gilded tongue.
ignore me when i question. get angry when i keep pushing. shove me into the wall and pull the moral fibers from my heart until i forget what right tasted like and am left with the feeling of wrong tattooed between my molars. let me stumble into tar pits of mistakes. don't stop when my hand draws the blade across her breast, don't blink when i continue to hack, when i'm sobbing between blows. turn your cheek when i'm sobbing, when i'm breaking her down, when each lash across her ba
strangle me silently.i am sleeping and nameless faces are looming and my bones are breaking to the beat of war drums in the fogging distance. my pulse is racing and bursting at the seams and i am arching up and out and all over the ceiling and splattering on the window. "it's art!" they cry, because art is pain and i am paint running down the walls, the shattered column of my torso twisting on roping cotton sheets. "how beautiful," they sigh with wistful voices for i am destruction, and they envy the magnificence to sacrifice one's self for art, for beauty, for love, but i am a stain they can't wash out and a puzzle they can't complete, and the walls are decaying and time is bending backwards and --strangle me silently.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am prey. i am a deer; i am a deer and the woods are as quiet as words. the fog is rolling in like tumultuous sea upon unsuspecting shores. i am a deer and i smell like fear, my legs snap as i move, as the wind whistles with deadly intentions. i leap, but time slices my throat. split-seconds are suddenly the o
skewed perceptions.it sounds poetic.skewed perceptions.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
sitting here with the window open and my hair knotted at the nape of my neck and cotton twisted around my torso, it's easy to think i'm pouring cool wine from my lips and plucking ambrosia from clouds. it's easy to think that when i'm speaking of love, i'm whispering in voices of the riverbank and looking at the not-yet-visible stars with a glazed over wonder that can only stem from a deep-rooted and profound love of soil and earth. from far away, i might look a dream. i might look soft and sweet with cherry-lips and, even perhaps, diamond-eyes that click clichés off like the tearing of dog-eared books that you bought from the secondhand store to look well-read.
i might appear hazy or vintage with a sepia overtone that seeps from beneath my fingertips and turns the bloodied edges of my life into something manageable and cinematic. you might touch the rippling corners of my mirror and wonder, think, dream, imagine. you might imagine hearts thumping ben
the emptiest word in the worldyou're the kind of beautiful that breaks down centuries.the emptiest word in the world5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you have the appeal of bloodied smiles and epidemics and time winding down on the cliff edge of your poet's mouth. you're holding together shattered dreams between scarred palms and sobbing with the strain, but refusing to let go. you're picking up birds with broken wings and taping them together, refusing to give up even when they teeter off your flesh to plummet to earth like stone. refusing to stop, refusing to give in, refusingrefusingrefusing--
and you keep repeating: one more time, one more breath, one more and you'll fix them.
you're two shades from a sunrise and four seconds from a meltdown and you're still not afraid to go dancing barefoot in the ash. you're choking on smoke and spitting up wine and pulling truths from between your fractured fingers. you're licked clean and scarred and your lungs are ballooning until the air is too thick and your voice is lost in the aftermath. you're falling through closed windows onto
the redefinition of right.this is the kind of mistake you always hoped might happen.the redefinition of right.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
it's the sequel backtracking and breathing life into the clay-lungs of your favorite character, the news reporter glancing back at the teleprompter and ten thousand more souls clawing out from the mushroom cloud. it's the kind of mistake that fixes the imperfections and calluses of reality, the kind that smoothes over the ordered lashes.
it's not getting what you deserve, but rather, what you wanted. it's feeding you honey when you were prescribed bitter root, slipping you into satin when burlap was folded at the foot of your bed. it's the kind that scares you, because you know better than to think it can last, your fingertips brushing over the edges and expecting it to dissolve like a glorious dream, your tongue savoring the sweetness because you know any second the illusion might evaporate off every taste bud.
it's waking up and swallowing the sun. it's letting the burn settle into your belly and smolder, your very flesh expa
stuck in transit.Time bends and snaps the spine of reality between its hands.stuck in transit.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Desires bleed like the ink you've left smudged and faded on my hips. The room is empty without your breath to swell the walls; my bed is cold without the warmth filtering through your pores. The clock is manipulated and broken, the ticks becoming distorted screams, the silences becoming gasping moans. Sleep flutters behind eyelids and drags at the exhausted mind until I am writhing under the sheets that smell like you, nails biting my scalp, body contorted against the pressure you kept at bay.
My memory sinks and anchors on the same parts:
The honey of your tongue and the heat of your sleepy lips against the back of my neck. Your palms following the nerves radiating under my skin until they quieted and fled. Soapy shoulders and sticky, peanut butter kisses. Murmured Whitman as we sprawled on bench swings and echoed songs as we shot down back roads isolated in sound.
Memories drag me down and pull me up, wring me dr
born in flames.if we don't start fires, then we'll breathe forth floods.born in flames.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
beneath our poetic simplicity is a raging monster with gnashing teeth and complications snarled all around its bloodied tongue. we're earthquake-palms hovering over the equator, sending continents careening into one another, their haphazard edges crumpling like damp paper. we're gaping ocean mouths gasping as life and death and the mess in between is sucked dry with a terrifyingly efficient gulp.
we're emaciated and starving and clawing at the lock to get to the feast on the other side. we're clumsy and awkward and knocking knees trying to finish a race on four feet and two hearts and no breath because we left it at the county line. we're practiced and naïve and reading the instruction manual in gaelic before tossing it to the wayside to learn with hands on experience instead, because --
class is in session:
professor, teach me the geography of twisting torsos and tangled limbs. professor, teach my the science of exploding
guiding me home.you found me bleeding on the side of the road.guiding me home.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you found me spitting up death and choking on life and letting reality throw bruising fingers around my throat to squeeze the remnants of belief. you found me quaking on the tile and shaking the entire building, my spine cracking like a weathered book. you found me as a victim of my own sense of fantasy, my own desires manipulating my nerves like a finely tuned violin playing nothing but funeral sobs. i was half-awake and half-aware and half-of-something-i-couldn't-even-label; you were in over your head.
three days later and i was stitched up with chapped-lips but swallowing whole foods and keeping it down for the first time in months. i was tasting the milk of your healing hope and the honey of your patience. i was soothed by your cool lips against my feverish forehead, but, i was still scared. i was waking up in cold sweats and breaking out to race down the corridors. i was lashing out when you tried to calm me and exploding at the bares
bleeding confessions.dear boy-with-a-solar-heart,bleeding confessions.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
love songs are never enough, poems are empty carcasses of emotion when it comes to you. i've spent entire evenings rummaging through the backlit crevices of my thief's mind, trying to drag the proper words from the shadows, but they all flee. the words all hiss and spit and claw: words that describe emotions that have never once been exposed to daylight. words that have slumbered for decades in the hope they would never be touched. words with seeping wounds and open bruises and complications a mile-wide. words that lived in little fear until your warmth shone through the slats of my reality-prison. words that are fighting me tooth and nail and slipping the bare minimum onto my desperate tongue so i might scarcely taste what it would feel like to properly describe you.
do not consider this a love poem. think of this as yet another rambling of a nonsensical tongue and a dreamer mouth, but certainly not pretty words strung together to talk about moss-covered s
you are my prayer.we are holding hands racing from burning homes.you are my prayer.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we are coughing as the walls melt like wax and the floor ignites and we're spitting up smoke in puffs of disbelief and horror. your palms are bleeding crescent moon wedges all over the sweat-slicked car door and i'm curled like an autumn leaf on your lap, my spine cracking like tennis shoes pressing down on fall. we're watching bombs detonate under our bare feet and wincing as the sparks crackle along the dry flesh. we're bleeding sweat, tension racing like split electrical wires in our veins. you call my name and i cry out and birds are dying around us and the ground is splitting open and when the dust clears --
wars carry on muted in the background. thatch roofs are set aflame. bloodied martyrs stumble down dirt roads and fists are formed along the backs of stone tables. we can see the land in the wake of destruction, the trees folding under the mushrooming explosions, their backs bent as if weeping in anguish. we can see the h
the sun isn't a candle.you never did learn that beauty can't be painted on rotting ship hulls. decaying wood will always smell like the ocean's betrayal and the salted funeral salute of gilded words. swirling acrylics will only mask the bleak gray and bled-dry sinkhole of your chest. so, you can sit there and call yourself the queen of your world, the mistress of mystery and empress of lust, but you're taking on water and sinking fast and the imploding sea around you is the last grave your cat-eyes will ever witness. you're sinking like a stone in your hate and deception and the one hand that would have pulled you back is the one you gnawed off at the wrist.the sun isn't a candle.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
you see, you had the sun in the palm of your greased talons, the whole reason for expanding lungs stitched between your pores and you discarded it like secondhand news. you never did realize: he's the cause of the spinning axel and the foundation of rome and the song the stars sing to dusk-covered fields. oh, you were just too blind to absorb his light!
intercontinental.when the world is quiet and the dawn is breaking, it's your hands that i'm taking. the world is caught in the moment our lips part, a dreamcatcher hung from the eyelashes resting like moons on our cheeks. we are capturing the globe in the spaces between our teeth and exchanging it on twisting tongues, tasting the continents on individual tastebuds. when we kiss, european flavors are mingling with asian accents and south american highlights; our mouths together are a world market of billowing fabric and exotic flavor that we could spend all afternoon exploring.intercontinental.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we are breathing in spice and the heady scent of bazaars and when we close our eyes, i imagine the trail down your ribbed torso is the journey to jerusalem. i taste the desert in the curls of your hair and the heat of your mouth is a sauna baking passion into smoldering fires. your fingers are an oasis painting the red sea along my throat, drawing the treacherous coastline across the flesh of my hips.
i can feel the w
we are eternity.Tell me, darling, how do we best count time?we are eternity.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
If you wish, I can reboot my system so we might run through the system and backed up files until we come up with the hard answer. We can have it in Eastern, Central, Pacific or Neverland and still be left with empty numbers. We can cross-divide and carry over our hearts, add the sum of our parts until we're nothing but decimal points flashing on the ambiguous screen. We can disconnect and rewire, throw our cyber-smiles against the wall until it's been reduced to springs and forlorn beeps of the dying machine.
Still, we'll have our answer: thirty days.
Or, if you prefer, I can break my poet's tongue in two and bleed words all over the hungry sheet of paper. I can write sonnets of the wind winding across the continent and limericks of the wolves howling for our distance. I can write songs to make stars weep in the clichéd sky of diamonds. I can compose you poems with phrases strung so daintily together that your nerves will bind and your
chronophobia_c.the sky is dark and the ground is falling and you're holding my hand and asking me why my nerves are trembling in the middle of my palms. you're wondering at the quakes in my lips and the tsunamis breaking on the edges of my fingernails as they rack against your skeleton. you're pressing the curling edges of my pages together, straightening the spine of my molting book as i do my best to unravel at your feet. you're holding me close and whispering into my neck, asking me why i am afraid. asking me why i tremble and jerk like a bass caught on a line. asking me why the sun is reflected and lost in the whites of my anxious eyes. and my answer will come like the end of the world, whimpered into the sharp blades of your shoulder, rising and crashing as i tell you that which i fear most: time.chronophobia_c.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I can tell by the way your hackles rise and you dig your toes into the sands as the hands on the clock begin to close in on another midnight separation, that just a little is just too much and
dear t, love m_cDear M, I used to wonder if the collision of our skin would be the ignition of rapidfire passions, the birth of brilliant starlight in the cold of loneliness, of suffocating space. I used to imagine that the heat of your breath would spill across my tongue, and reignite the cold ashes in my lungs. I used to hope that the sway of my skeleton and the clacking of my bones could be a rhythm you would stay around and dance to. I used to dream of us on moonlit beaches, sleeping on the waves and swimming through the sand. I used to do a lot of things, but your shiver-up-my-spine smile tends to drag my thoughts out to quieter seas.dear t, love m_c5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dear T, I used to imagine my bones were fractured and chipped in all the wrong ways. I used to think my heart was a poison my body kept rejecting, leaving me on my hands and knees spitting up old relationships, lies and heartache all over my carpet late at night. I used to look at the sun and wish myself blind, stare at the ocean and wish myself ten thousand le
tide pools of disbelief.broken words splintertide pools of disbelief.5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
beneath my feet
and i'm perched
on the faded edge
of what beauty
looked like before you
went and rearranged it.
from here, i can see
the distant salted shore
where you are cradling
the rest of my life amongst
the rest of the vowels
missing from my disjointed,
leaning against the vacant
air your bones should be filling,
i'm suddenly aware i'm nothing
but empty palms and scattered
sheets of music and if i was to cry
would you close your eyes to pretend
the collapse of my lungs is a poem?
would you write me a promise,
carve me a secret and fold them
in broken glass bottles
before hoisting the corpses
out to sea?
would you pull emaciated
fears from cobwebbed corners,
feed them into the shells of paper
airplanes before trusting
them to the airwaves and me?
if yes, then press reality
into my hollow cells
until life is a synonym
for you, until death
is a forgotten moment
when your lips peeled
goodbyes away from mine.
if yes, kiss me through
love will burn this city.it's the same old fire, the same old burn; i'm building castles from words and watching as the flames swallow mortar and stone. the walls are breached and ascending armies are slipping on my heart as they race up the winding stairs. i am locked in the tower and pushing my head into the pluming smoke clouds just for a chance of clean air. i am quaking with fears and devoured with doubts, my spine is a puzzle i can't figure out and the second i have it straight is the second i'm spread-eagle on the floor once more.love will burn this city.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
my palms are the source of the wildfires in the western hemisphere and my heart is the spawning ground of all the eastern plagues. i am soured good intentions and my smile tastes like 'what if' and 'maybe' and pleading words that lost their meaning like the river stone loses traction. i'm not bad, and i'm not good either, i'm a nomad of the middle area, the gray, the vague. i'm a traveling soul with red footprints in my wake. i am a lion and i am afraid of everything. i am fea
as i cry sanctuary.the world is ending; i am borne in the bloodshed. i am stretching awake from the locked arms of the corpses, the froth of the raging sea dripping from the ends of my hair. i am naming myself death and sleeping in graves, molding sprawling metropolitan dreams from the loose sand behind the tombstones. the timeline of my hourglass is a snake swallowing its own tail. i am infinite; in this finite world, i am nothing. i watch the maddeningly swirling chaos of human destruction below the soles of my feet without a shudder. i touch the mirror and see wormholes in space. i press frayed emotion against the base of my skull and pray to science in the name of osmosis. i am whole and beautiful. i see everything; i feel nothing.as i cry sanctuary.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i am the night sky thief. i burglarize the heavens and paint them on my bones. during the day, i feel the morningstar dripping down to splatter on my pelvis, drawing forth warmth with a liquid pull from the sprawling roots in my belly. i am a statue caught forever in a m
sheep-wool covered lies.i ate your heart and reveled in the way it smashed between my molars like ripe grapes, the way i could feel the pulse beating between my clenched jaw, the life squirming in and out to stain my lips. i swallowed it whole and felt it beating like a drummer boy in the pit of my belly, your sorrow the beat i danced my day to. your misery was a lullaby i sang to myself at night, the sheep i counted when my eyes were closed. i could feel it in the way it seeped into my veins and tangled around my bones like weeds growing too fast to contain. i gloried in the power it gave me, the way i could pull your strings and make you dance, the way i could bloody your soles and your soul and at the end of the day when i slept in my bed, it was made of the gnashed bones and entrails you left behind.sheep-wool covered lies.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
is that what you want me to say?
if you want, i'll tell you about how i thrilled at the tears in your eyes. i'll tell you i manipulated the map to pull reality apart and create a fantasy for us to get lost in
no more sailing_cThe sun is setting and something in the way the light is haloing the horizon makes me think of the forest green rimming the caramel of your eyes. I sit and pluck beach grass as I watch the tips of the sails in the distance flare moments before the darkness claims them. I imagine the same night coming to steal and curl in your lungs. I imagine it bringing restful peace as you breathe in the tiny golden dust particles that swirled around my palms earlier today while at market. I imagine the light that brushed your cheekbones yesterday is slipping under my tongue as I stretch awake. I imagine we're tied together at the spinal cord and expanded over the globe. I know we're not side-by-side, but I feel you in the air. I can't see you, but my heart can hear you in the trembling earth as saltwater rides up the shore. I can't miss you any more than I already do -- my soul is crippled with wanting. So, come home soon, darling; ride the tide back to my waiting arms.no more sailing_c5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
The waters here are
life lessons in death.i didn't know what pain was.life lessons in death.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
pain isn't sitting in your room with the music blasting and the world going in slow motion, because your heart's been metaphorically ripped to shreds and society doesn't understand you and your clothes don't fit [in] and your tongue has unraveled and you're too tired to try and pick it up again.
pain isn't watching your friend walk away and your dog lie under the sheets of autumn leaves and throwing your moth-eaten book into the cardboard box next to him, because if you're going to lose one friend then you might as well lose them all and your arms are sore and your chest hurts, but night is coming and somehow you're sure you'll remember how to breathe by then.
pain isn't sitting in the kitchen with your sister sobbing in the corner and the lights being too bright and remembering the way there was a full bottle of vodka on the shelf yesterday morning, and wondering what it's doing broken and empty on the bottom of the kitchen sink when she's screaming so lou
breaking hearts for dummies.spin me around and drain me dry, spit my promises from beneath your teeth and pick my scabs until you have me just where you want. press the bruises where they hurt most, hold me underwater until i'm purple-lipped and blue-tongued and scratching the base of my throat to bleed the oxygen from my veins.breaking hearts for dummies.5 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
cut my achilles' heel and watch as i stumble down the stairs, watch as i hit the second landing and crumple. tell me i look beautiful broken, tell me not to move a muscle, tell me you're going to take a photograph and i'm going to be f-f-famous for the pretty way i break apart.
tell me a picture's worth a thousand words, but wanted isn't one of them. magic isn't either so make sure i stop believing, stop wishing, stop pulling the stars from the sky and hiding them under my pillow. call me a disease and my heart a rotting corpse.
don't let me get in your way. don't let my quaking distract you, don't stop or pause or wait to hear me whisper no, hear me scream go away, hear