Paper MutantMy hands are raw and full of paper cuts today.
Grandmama had given me a book about origami, but my fingers are too small and clumsy with the paper. Instead of birds, flowers, butterflies, and stars I had mushed together monstrosities that didn't resemble anything beautiful. I swam in a sea of wadded paper that evening and I felt terrible. Mother had told me I was wasting my time. Grandmama told her that all the lessons we need are etched into our hands.
"Why can't I do it, Grandmama?"
"Of course you can do it, haven't you been practicing?"
I sighed and pointed to the mess in my room, papers slipping between floorboards and hiding beneath piles of clothes. They didn't want her to see my failure. She didn't say anything as she took the horrible book from my dresser.
"Where are you going?"
"To bring the book back of course," her teal shoes shuffled past half-folded stars, making their way to my door.
"It's not the book!" I reached out for it, as if I had loved it with everything my
Before I Even Met YouHe built me a house out of willow bones. I didn't know how to thank him, so instead of smiling I said "We speak with different hopes," I pretended like his laugh could make me smile, make me forget the ridges in his palms were like severed river beds.Before I Even Met You3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Of course we do."
"You're never serious."
"Only about you."
"You joke too much"
His embrace was erratically cold. Irony didn't begin to describe it. I guess you loose warmth with age. Or maybe it's with lies. I may never know.
Winter curled up inside his eyes as we stood with our toes pressing against the first steps of the run-down church.
"We don't have to go inside."
"I could describe it to you."
"Grand tour, remember?"
A hollow wind began grappling at his lips while we climbed the short flight of stairs. He spoke but I couldn't make out the words, I was feeling dreadful for even thinking of returning here, again.
"Stop feeling bad. I like coming back here."
Unlove MeHe looked at me, with those oblong eyes of his, and said, "Sarah, I don't think I love you anymore."Unlove Me6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I didn't move and I'm pretty sure I didn't blink. I just stood there, expressionless, while looking at the half-chopped carrots in front of me.
"You know, it's going to rain tonight," I said, my fingers re-clutching the knife and continuing to chop the carrots.
He looked at me, with those malachite eyes of his, and said:
"You're not yourself anymore. I..."
"Josh, can you hand me that pan?"
Red. I try my best to scrape away every last ounce of the colour. It's everywhere. I know he wouldn't like it if his parents came over and the house was filthy. He hated that.
"I'll have to change," I said looking at my dress, covered in orange and red.
Icebound DevotionFlame frozen forever encasedIcebound Devotion5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Ice crystals melt within it's heat
But manages to stay its shape.
Frosted wasteland devoid of life.
See how easy it is to weave a web
Of illusion with lies?
I've painted a picture you see as truth.
Not one part did you question
And you say I can't fool you.
I am the greatest deceiver
Against me you stand no chance.
I've been feeding you lines from first glance.
Let's play hide-and-seek with land mines
sprinkled across your ramshackle front porch.
Oblivion goes on for miles; you're
still willing to submerge into my deceit.
I'll cover you like a wanning blizzard
appendages only half frozen,
mouth still trembling with unthawed words.
Once, I told you that my love isnt real;
I consist of summery glaciers
that never erode quite enough.
I stand solid, block of ice
Your so called warming smile
Can't even fracture my cube of petrification.
Snow flakes fall in desperation
From the chunk of sleet I reside in.
Even time cannot thaw my prison.
Your pitiful attemp
We Will Never Be PerfectA dilapidated, small house--a single light is on inside, barely illuminating the silhouettes of hunched over figures. DANIEL, a some-what well-dressed man is at the door, obviously out of place with his ragged surroundings. He seems fidgety and agitated. Someone opens the door on the inside; Daniel walks in.We Will Never Be Perfect5 years ago in Screenplay More Like This
A woman, NICOLE, is smoking something indistinguishable while sitting next to an open window. Two people are sitting off in a corner, another is strewn about in the hallway. Two others can be heard giggling in an adjacent room, just out of sight. Daniel stands in the door way and looks down the hall to Nicole, she is close enough to speak too.
"Sometimes, I know you don't love me."
(He flashes her an insincere smile as he begins to walk towards her.)
You aren't always faithful yourself. (She pauses.) Just ask your wife about Cheryl or Lauren.
"They were a mistake."
Translating the DifferenceSing to me songs in languages I do not understand.Translating the Difference4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Let me pretend I speak them fluently, their letters stumbling leaves
and I will catch them,
whispering new life into each foreign syllable.
When I repeat after you, they will still hold sway
with each rise and fall.
It will be sunset and sunrise, a collaboration of undertones
pulled together by circuits of moonlight.
Perhaps my translation will speak more to you
from the backs of seabirds, spilling across their beaks.
I will not become a spider,
legs aching from spinning, spinning, and spinning
every phrase you divulge to me.
Each sound will be stretched across a nebula,
my werewolf words becoming our mantra.
When this is over, we will understand each other.
VigilantI heard the waves crash upon the sandy shores and the screams of mothers and children. I could feel the panic seep through their bones in the form of violent raindrops and wailing winds. I listen as I hear the breaking of boards and houses. The sloshing of mud as it hits furniture and peoples legs.Vigilant6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
The water is cold. Actually it's just a little chilly. Like the first steps one would take into the ocean. I'm soaking. If I had bones I know they would be soaked as well. But my stuffing is the only thing that feels soggy now.
I wish I could sit up straighter. I can't quite see over some of the debris that liters the ground. It's a horrible sight and every so often I see eyes, like mine, starring back at me. Not completely lifeless, but unanimated. Unable to see but aware.
Eyes that scream, that beg, that cry endless and invisible tears. A sadness that calls to the birds that circle overheard. Hungry. Gnarled. Wretched birds. I see the greed in their eyes, just as the men that scavenge the
The Tails of Falling StarsShe was awestruck by the backs of moons that wereThe Tails of Falling Stars5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
too far away to see with her unaided ocean eyes;
her petal fingers lace around the necks of stars.
Tracing their distant narrative, she becomes
an oracle, picking at Castor and Pollux;
the innards of sacrificial lamb becoming
the threshold of her prophetic quasar.
Always in search for the answers
that remain as churning syllables,
rotting at the bottom of her myrtle lungs.
She harvests the tree-branch limbs of galaxies,
to appraise the fruits of fate;
calculating the depths of nebulae, nuances of flesh.
She remembers how she grew to fear space.
Chameleon Smiles"I always wanted matching straight jackets," she said, pressing her minuscule fingertips against the bent backs of dandelions and clovers. I only managed to blink back the laughter because even though she smiled lovingly at the sky, her eyes said "sometimes-I-think-I-belong-in-one."Chameleon Smiles6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
"Don't be ridiculous," I say, leaning back onto the blanket of sun-worn grass.
She pouts with her all ready withered twenty two year old lips, "I'm not being ridiculous."
I smile and close my eyes as her innocence laden voice rambles on about why the sky really turns black--she is adamant that it's because a monster-star swallows up all the colours then spits them back in the morning. While the other stars are only there to avert suspicion by sparkling not-brightly-enough. I laugh and shake my head as her hands wash over my arm, trying to pull me into her descriptions. She never lets me forget how wrong about her I am.
"You could at least listen to me," I can imagine her rolling her eyes at me
Affliction of GravityWe were spinning in a violent orbit,Affliction of Gravity5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
fragments against a time continuum,
with the shock signals of past events
coursing through our brain waves
and hovering away into unwanted space.
Your spiral fingers clutched twenty-two street lights,
coalescing them into supernovae
to gather their unseen veils of jade.
Our feet, skittering across the worn concrete,
were blazing a new trail of the universe.
The pale glass panels of the skyscrapers
showered down small meteorites,
illumination for our blind and careless eyes.
We'd point to buildings that grazed each star
off sideways perches made from skeleton clouds;
then I'd trill my laugh off sidewalk chalk.
I wanted our love to be like a hurricane on Neptune,
fiercer than Earths fizzing clouds
but dim enough so Galileo only pauses for us.
You wanted our love to be a shooting constellation,
furious and wild at the surface, brightly ablaze
until the gases stopped billowing, the spark diminishing.
There would be no trace of us left on the map.
Periwinkle laces will save her.Breaking in new shoes was hard. Willow didn't like that. It was so much easier to slip inside the imprints of someone else, to contort her way into the soles of their life. She lived up to her name, becoming willowy: bending and shifting as if she was always set against a breeze. She thought it only fitting that toe-marked shoes were the best fit for her because of this.Periwinkle laces will save her.2 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Her mother would always sigh whenever she found Willow grasping onto last year's pair of shoes. Sweetie, you have new ones. You don't have to keep those. This time Willow had left her old shoes at home, deciding that perhaps her new shoes deserved a chance at an adventure. Or at least as much adventure one could have while walking to the local park.
She dodged the occasional crumpled leaf that pounced at her from the trees along the sidewalk. The playground always looked the most beautiful with that extra bit of sunlight from when the trees began to undress for the winter. A flutter of air sought out every crevi
Allaying Alideya (2)Alideya was going crazy and Cal didn't know how to help her.Allaying Alideya (2)1 year ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Cal remembered back to this morning, when the Fosters came to his door. They looked more like they were there to beat him then give him any kind of news. There's been an accident at the factory, please have your parents report to Saint Felia's Hospital, Wing B as soon as they return home. The curt thank you at the end was like a lash across his face. The eerie politeness meant one thing, something terrible had happened.
He had pleaded for more information, but the men gave him no further answers as they walked down the cobbled path and back to their posts. They didn't care what happened to some seventeen year old girl, they weren't programmed to. Fear placing careful lines across his face, Cal turned back into the house.
He began scrawling out a note to his parents explaining what had happened before leaving both of his parents messages with as calm a voice as he could. Then he ran. Bursting into the B wing of Saint Fe
imaginary conversations I“But it’s not like you just say, ‘oh, you have the attributes which I seek in a mate, so I will now proceed to fall in love with you.’ You can’t turn love on and off like flipping a switch. It doesn't work like that.”imaginary conversations I2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
“In a way, it does, though. Because any kind of real love—not a crush or an infatuation: real, deep, lasting love—centres around a similarity in the core of their being and the core of yours. You have to have a reason to love someone—to really love someone, I mean—whether it be their integrity or fortitude or kindness or intelligence or something else entirely. And if you find out that that person isn't who you thought they were—if they change, or you learn that you were mistaken—well, it’s sort of like if the sun suddenly disappeared. You can only go on orbiting empty space for about eight minutes or so before the whole thing collapses.”
Of Half-Filled WordsShe is not a flutterbird.Of Half-Filled Words3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Her fingers are skittish,
her smile is not.
Do not fear that you will
drive it away.
Sadness is her fumbling limb.
It is unwanted, yet
When it is January
she will tell you,
"I am still struggling.
And I am becoming so many people
all at once.
A conglomeration of beauty that
I have managed to mangle.
Please, do not be sad for me."
Sometimes her sorrow is
meant for you. But mostly her.
Those specks and spots
of ocean storm lulls
reveal her truths:
ones she does not want
to extract from herself.
Her heart is not a rabbit.
When it beats
faster, faster, faster,
you need not
run harder to catch it.
Burgundy Heart and Glass LungsMy fingertips are pressed against the inky folds of your skyBurgundy Heart and Glass Lungs6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but you were colorless when I met you.
Troubled moons become hung over
on the pot-bellied lies you once condoned.
We watched it rise over the skies;
you painted in deep glasses of burgundy.
Once I asked you,
and you answered with a rare smile and,
"Because it reminds me of you."
And then I wondered why I
should be remembered at all.
Sometimes you would look at me
and smile one of those quirky
and I would return the glance
and reply with a
We took the tails of comets
and added your tears to them
so they would shine brighter than any sun.
Then, you asked, Whats forever like?
I couldnt answer, because I was living it.
I stuffed my skin full of
your dying sighs and watched
them twinkle beneath my lips;
You docked my eyelashes with half-formed truths;
I saw through those lies and loved you
MelodyBread and butter pudding rests,Melody2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Upon a tattered album,
Memories lay cast aside,
Like lifeless broken limbs.
A world of desecrated harmless dreams,
Has fallen into nightmare,
All violent, hateful, turgid thoughts,
Reveal the scars once bared.
Yell! For none will hear your words,
With what will you destroy,
The darkness massing in your soul,
What method do you employ?
Guarded stalactites of sorrow,
Distractions mask the pain,
An anaesthetic claiming heart,
And with it stealing brain.
Bereft of feeling, hollowed - blank,
Will numbness guide your journey,
Or can you find the strength to fight,
Before you're on the gurney?
Seconds chased by unknown face,
Each moment fleet and passing,
Love in purest form is rare,
And can be everlasting.
Breathe and chase away the fear,
That courses, throbs within,
A product of a different time,
Born from rumoured sin.
Allow the feeling to return,
The searing, slicing wounds,
To weep, to burn and disappear,
Transform and build anew.
Create yourself a masterp
Heart StutterI struggled to breathe in the frigid air as we raced onto the upper-deck, the cold ripping at us as we wove through the crowd. Mama never let go of my hand, though I pleaded with her, Ma, Im 17. Im not a kid anymore.Heart Stutter6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
I will not lose you again, Andre, she turned on her heel so that her crooked nose was nearly pressing against mine. She paid no heed to the shoulders bludgeoning her as people frantically brushed past us; I saw little Maries eyes sparkle with that youthful confusion.
You never lost me Ma, I said, biting my lip, I wanted to stay.
Jeannette? my fathers voice seemed to slink through the crowded deck as he called out to my mother.
Arnaud, over here, I felt the shift of power as she pulled Marie to herself then pressed my sister into my arms.
Jeannette, youre all right, I could tell Mama had begun crying, that quiet but high-pitched sob she had would never leav
I Breathe In LoveIn cyclic patterns the wind doth dance,I Breathe In Love5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bearing but quiet and beautiful breeze,
Rustling and catching the decadent leaves,
Enraging a gardener and fuming he stands,
A victim of nature and poor circumstance,
Turning around, he sees a small child,
His face is so peaceful, so meek and so mild,
Empowered is he with the smile on his face.
Intrigued, the gardener asks him his name,
'No name have I but the love of this place'
Ludicrous boy! The gardener exclaimed!
'Oh no my dear man, I am what I say,
Very few things in life are as true,
Excepting the love that the Lord feels for you.'
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
The PainterI thought youd have the heart to say,The Painter6 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
That I am not the one you seek,
The one who makes you want to smile,
The soul who lives to hear you speak,
And revel in your child like fun,
But alas Im not this one.
I know the man who claimed this part,
This dazzling role before your eyes,
He weaves such love like works of art,
He paints a picture- canvassed lies,
A fraud so tailored, please believe,
Hes nothing like the man you see.
But how can one like I compare?
To one who hides with joyous ease?
I am but one who wants to share,
Every day, each memory,
Yet I will never have that chance,
As Ill receive no second glance.
Questions of ExistenceWhere will you go when there's nowhere to be?Questions of Existence5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
When there's nowhere to run and no one to see,
What will you do when there's nothing to prove?
No expectations and nothing to lose?
Who are you now and who will you be?
When there's no one dictating the world that you see,
Can you stand on your own foundations of thought?
Rather than hold fabrications you're taught?
Will you scatter your hopes and your dreams in the wind?
Feel consumed in a world of immeasurable sin,
Or grasp at these wonders and keep them alive?
Caress them and nurture them so they'll never die.
Would you rather a country of billions of souls,
Like you as you always do what you're told?
Or would you prefer to live and believe,
How you wish even though nobody agrees?
Will you stand around aimlessly waiting for change?
Or fight preconceptions and start to arrange,
A new way of thinking that values us all,
Not keeping us trapped in our separate stalls.
Where will you go when there's nowhere to be?
When there's nowhere to run
Two Word OdeOde to photographing a very fast moving object.Two Word Ode6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
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
Through Frosted GlassShe watches.Through Frosted Glass5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Through the window she sees a world,
A beautiful place,
That is open to her if she only appear,
If she only announced her presence.
Through the frosted glass, she sees a future,
A future of happiness and love,
Where the arms are always open to her,
If she only accepts their embrace.
Within the reflection she sees a demon,
A person that brings nothing but pain and misery,
And this person does not belong,
In a place of love.
Blurred eyes peer through the window,
As she places a letter,
To show that her heart is always open,
If they only accept it.
Little did she know that a little girl,
With love and light abounding within her countenance,
Caught a glimpse of the figure walking away,
And she cries.
She wonders why her sister cant see,
What the world sees,
That even while she is miserable,
She brings light to others.
Why does she run and deny us herself?
Because she loves too much.
I Don't Want ThisI don't want to live like thisI Don't Want This2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Fighting every day
And aching every night
I don't want to keep pretending
Telling you that I love you
When I really despise you
I don't want to keep getting hurt
You always blame me
It's always my fault
I don't want them to believe you
But they all think the lies are true
And I'm always the bad guy