Untitledwe are in Rome telling the dirt how it murdered its brother.Untitled7 months ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
we are shouting at every historical monument from the books with affection and insult and nobody cares about yesterday.
"he wants to kill himself but he just writes a lot of stories with sad endings. don't talk to him."
i believe in love now. i don't know if i've grown up at all or learned from my mistakes or just lost and lost and lost. i'll write something. i'll write you stories. i'll mean it. i'll run away and never come back. some things never change.
"well the boy was found to have consumed the full body of a small mouse, a penny, broken glass, dirt, whisky... then hanged himself."
i am an abandoned house, i am here, i am still here.
The Things I Don't Write AboutOn the last day of class, she had us copy a poem into our journals.The Things I Don't Write About10 months ago in Emotional More Like This
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.'
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'
And to each of us she wrote a message. To me, she wrote that I should not be afraid to visit the dark parts of my mind, for that is where I would find my best writing.
I unravel these things and weave them into other stories. Other voices. I use them, in bits and pieces, like an archeologist uncovering the broken shards of a pot and never finding the whole. I write the stories that belong to other people, but never my own.
I don't write about how it hurts. How the
The Way That You Love MeIf only I could learn how to love youThe Way That You Love Me5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
I'd love you the way that you need me to
I'd do everything I could to make you happy
But I don't love you the way that you love me
I can't bring myself to just up and walk away
I don't want to hurt you, but I don't want to stay
I don't want to be the one who makes you cry
So I keep holding off on telling you goodbye
The longer I wait, the harder it's going to be
But I can't find the strength to set you free
How am I supposed to just break your heart
And leave you there as you're falling apart
It's not the way that this was supposed to end
But I can't make myself fall in love again
I wish that somehow it were just as easy
To love you the way that you love me
Jacked UpMy boyfriend slashed one of my car tires.Jacked Up1 year ago in Short Stories More Like This
I didn't realise it at first. I had the day off work and we'd been lazing together in our seasonable bed, when he suggested we go out for lunch. Now my boyfriend is many things but keen to leave the house he is not. He likes to be at home, tinkering in the shed and whatnot. I should have been suspicious but it had been such a hazy dreamy morning that I just wanted to spend time with him before Monday morning ruined it all.
It took some time to get out of the house though, because as I was brushing my hair he commented on how it was all lit up from behind by the sun and the look in his eyes simply had to be kissed away.
Can you blame me?
Anyway we got to the car eventually, although he had to rush back into the house to get his wallet. I tried to protest, I could pay, but he insisted. That's when I noticed the tire. At first it only seemed like a flat tire but as I knelt in the autumn debris I saw the hole. I swore.
"What's up babe?" - he was co
a poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mindit isn't like i'ma poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mind5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
lazy or anything it's just that
the thought of getting lost
in a crowd of ten or more people
makes me want to puke.
this is not just some
stupid little hang-up that you can
joke about when i'm
digging my fingernails into my palm so
hard that blood is drawn as we walk through
school hallways so packed that it feels
like we're suffocating from too much
oxygen but i just grit my teeth and
laugh "yeah, i know, i just don't like
being around people sometimes."
but you know,
there's just something about the way
my mother says "go out and have a life
and stop looking like the world
betrays you every day"
that makes my stomach drop
or when my dad looks at me and just
sighs, like they've finally realized
i was never good enough to be
and to everyone who believes that
i just need to relax,
to just calm down and think:
fuck you. fuck you for trying to pretend
like you know how it feels when my
bones grind together like broken
gears as i walk by people who may