stained my neck emeraldRecently stopped my transformation into a mermaid, that was a close call.
I just. I think that I am standing in a meadow of peppermint, thin and wispy as wheat, holding a map to a land that is constantly changing its topography just as quickly as I am constantly changing my destination.
This means that, effectively, I am looking for a place without any tangibility, boundaries, or promise while a place is looking for a girl without a face, someone to give it purpose and reason, or someone to call "the one that got away".
I'm playing a game without rules, a clear idea of who or what I'm competing against, and no end, and I am really only calling it a game because I'm not sure naming it anything else would be worth the trouble.
All things considered (the lack of any understanding of anything including myself or my wishes or my chances, a terrible and embarrassing record with board games, my obvious lack, the two peaches I bought and devoured tonight), I'm off to a great start.
If you're going to be sanctimoniousAwkward bodies are for growingIf you're going to be sanctimonious4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
teenagers, not twenty-four
year old college graduates.
My hips were made to procreate;
my shoulders to carry the weight
of your stares. I’m perfectly fine;
your perception is what’s messed up.
I shave for my own comfort,
not yours. My nails are short
and chewed upon. I don’t
even own a pair of heels;
shackles would be more comfortable.
My hands are scratched
by all the cats I’ve cared for.
I look best in business casual;
slacks, tank, shell. I never remember
my bust size. I own more books
than clothes. My eyes are gold
in the late afternoon sunshine.
I can afford a bland oat
diet and gym membership,
or a new wardrobe.
Or, I can be happy with what I’ve got.
Deux ex machinaMaybeDeux ex machina2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you should start being more
honest with yourself.
You will never be a
a sunspot on the
moon; only fallen
heroes belong there,
and your life wasn't
pitiful enough to
cavort with the stars.
The gods love a
good tragedy, but only when
they're the ones
writing the playbill. It
isn't any fun when the actors
forget their lines and
(better draw the curtains
before the performance morphs
into a comedy)
You say "I'm sorry" but in
reality the only thing
you're apologizing for is
leaving before the show
ended and reading the
wrong horoscope that day.
Convenience Ducky Short usually avoided using 'convenience' stores. The floors were always grimy, the lighting was too dim for his tired veiny eyes, and the cashiers never spoke more than five words of English. But the thing that irked him most was how every one of them put the Ho-Hos on the very bottom shelf, and every time he would have to find a way to maneuver his long body and old rusty joints into a crouch just so he could reach them.Convenience3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
He had been struck with a Ho-Ho craving as he was walking by, and since the only store nearby was a tiny convience store, he had no choice but to go in and claim his cakes. There was no controlling this sort of thing. 'Happy Ho Ho emergencies', his mother used to call them, God rest her soul.
But Ducky hadn't expected a different kind of emergency.
The bell on the door barely had time to jingle before it was drowned out by a frantic holler.
"Freeze, everybody! I've got a gun, so no messing around!"
Hearts and Elevators5th Floor:Hearts and Elevators6 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Count the number of times the elevator hesitates, pray it doesnt change its mind about letting you in, and stumble outwards, declaring youre never going back down. Take note of the lack of protest, smile like love, and then kiss the frazzled door attendant in relief; the one who could never forget you if he tried.
And try not to hope.
But feel free to love.
Sigh happily at the sight of the library, find a cushion, and read until you think youre going to fall asleep. Read softly of little secrets, great adventures, and things learned too late. Do fall asleep. Afterwards, smile, and hold the book close when the do
winter always reminds me of you.It never snowed last December, but it was always there on the horizon. Like a bad dream on the periphery of my vision, a relentless reminder that I don't ever have control over things the way I think I do. The way I want to. Recently, I realized that I feel everything a bit too sharply. The cold. The pain. The nothingness.winter always reminds me of you.3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's heart wrenching. It's stomach twisting.
The minute you were gone, the air in my lungs left too. It's amazing how long you can live without breathing. It's much longer than anyone tends to claim. Truthfully, it's not even the thing I miss anymore. I only miss you. I miss the feelings. I miss anything that isn't the slow crack and settle of this old building. Or the familiar beating of my heart. The sun rising and falling from the sky each and every day.
I don't remember what it's like to not wake up to a pattern, but I do remember that it was so much better than this.
I used to never know what to expect. Now I have no expectations at all. It didn't take me long t
What a Tryst: Chapter 2 Part 1A week went by faster than I’d expected it to. Getting used to a new school had taken a lot out of me. I felt exhausted, both mentally and emotionally. Thankfully, the workload had been light (most of the material had already been covered at my old school).What a Tryst: Chapter 2 Part 15 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
South Boston High School wasn’t especially different from my last school, after all, aside from Savanna’s occasional guitar in the hallways, and Jonathan’s randomly slapping me on the back between classes. Alice had a habit of walking right into people whenever she walked down the hallways, her nose always buried in a book. Sarah was never to be seen without her baseball and mitt. She was always playing catch with herself; I wondered if they overlooked that during classes.
Alice had caught me staring a few more times. I couldn’t really help it; she had such striking features. Her expressions were priceless when she was reading; it was the only time she seemed to smile or laugh or even look sad. Other ti
What a Tryst: Chapter 3: Part 2It had been a mile and a half past the house to reach the art supply shop, then another mile to get to the all natural store (for the loose leaf tea and such). Despite having Google Maps on Alice’s phone to guide me, I still managed to get lost a few times. I also wasn’t sure if I grabbed the right art supplies. The clerk wasn’t able to read Claire’s cursive so I had to do some guesswork. I was shivering by the last turn--or so I’d hoped--before the house; warmth was in sight.What a Tryst: Chapter 3: Part 24 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I went through the gated green fence and rushed for the door. I was nearly salivating at the thought of biting into that Snicker’s Bar in bed, wrapped up in a blanket.
“Joining us for tea?” Jonathan asked.
I took off my shoes in the entryway. “Uh, maybe in a bit. I need to give this stuff to Claire first.” I raised the bag to show him.
“Ah, Alice bribed you to do her dirty work did she?” he laughed. “Well, tea will be ready in a few. Sa
What a Tryst: Chapter 2 Part 2Saturday: a day to sleep-in and relax. Unless of course somebody decides to unleash a barrage of knocks on your door at seven ‘o clock in the morning.What a Tryst: Chapter 2 Part 25 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
That was how my Saturday began. Who could possibly want me for something so early on a Saturday morning, I wondered groggily. I rolled over and attempted to muffle the sounds by smothering myself beneath a pillow. The knocking continued. I didn’t want them to wake Claire, so I rolled out of bed, and went to the door.
Sarah stood there holding her baseball. Part of me wanted to ask if she was using the ball to bang against my door to make that much noise. The other part of me didn’t want to get hurt.
“Morning,” I managed.
“That’s good morning,” she smiled.
Maybe before you woke the entire neighborhood. “Did you need something?” I asked.
She raised her eyebrow. “Your room is pretty boring. You should get some posters, or paint or something.”
“Is there anyt
Home-Schooleddo not teach meHome-Schooled4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
do not stand in front of a
chalk dusty black board and
expect me to listen
do not bombard me with
long phrases and dreary
speeches and expect me to
hang on to every word that
falls out of your drooling
do not show me diagrams
and pictures and expect me
to tear apart the symbols
and reach a deeper, more
do not teach me, for i have
already been taught
i learned my arithmetic by
counting each star in the sky
every night until i knew my
multiplication table forwards
i learned history by listening
to the stories whispered to
me on windy days by trees
that have lived through
each war and revolution
i learned english by reading
the words written out by
clouds that are more
complicated than any
shakespearean play could ever
i learned science by watching
the world around me grow
and die in a never ending
cycle that no text book could
ever capture the true lesson
do not teach me, for i am a child of nature
and i've already been home
What a Tryst: Chapter 3: Part 1By the time I’d finished my homework Sunday night, I was ready to pass out. As I tried sleeping my mind kept going back to the baseball game, and the trip to that bakery with Savanna. I’d been tossing and turning for hours before Sarah’s knock startled me out of bed. I may have jumped up with slightly too much enthusiasm.What a Tryst: Chapter 3: Part 15 months ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
“You look energetic,” Sarah said with a raised eyebrow.
That’s rich, I thought, and you look like an amazon that’s never heard of a brush, but I wasn’t going to come right out with that. “You look like you just woke up.”
“Pfft,” she looked around my room, then looked back at me. “You really do need to paint or do something with this room. It’s so boring.”
I messed with my bedhead until it rested less lopsided. “I did just move here. I’m not too focused on painting my walls, or putting up posters.”
Sarah sighed and rested her hands behind her head.
I hope it's worth it when I'm gone.I can't even pretend things are simple anymore.I hope it's worth it when I'm gone.4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
It's raining again, and with every crash of thunder, I miss you more than I can bear. I know it's not worth saying, because really nothing much is anymore, but it doesn't make it any less true.
It's eleven ten on a Friday night, and I'm sitting in the middle of the grass, watching the downpour spill off the roof. My t-shirt is clinging to my ribcage, and my hair is sticking to my face. I can feel the water running down the ridges of my spine, the backs of my hands, clumping in my eyelashes, but still, I don't move. Sometimes, when I can't stand what the world is doing anymore, I allow myself a thunderstorm to wash everything away.
It's the meteorological equivalent to a clean break. Faster to heal -- or at least, that's what they say.
The lightning is tearing across the sky, cutting through the darkness like a crack in the atmospheric layers. I'm staring at this like I half expect all the air to disappear around me while the world disinte
Tips For succeeding as an ArtistSucceeding as an artist: These are just the thoughts that come immediately to mind.Tips For succeeding as an Artist4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
1.) A very important and often overlooked aspect of the art industries is networking. Get to know people and especially get to know who is important to know. Acquire a list of contacts and MAINTAIN those contacts. Don't call someone up after ten years of radio silence then be like "hi, remember me? Need job now, can has?" Also, don't be a dick to people and don't burn bridges. You'd be surprised how quickly that can get you blacklisted from a variety of places. Even if someone is a rampaging, fiery doucheflute, cope..... pretty much like any other job. keep your contacts list nice and organized. Sounds like frivolous advice but trust me, it's not. When you have several hundred contacts, being able to go "who's the guy I did that porn mural with.... *scrolls down to PORN category* oh right, HIM," can make networking much more efficient and a lot less confusing.
2) PORTFOLIO! It must
South on 91wide eye of the moonSouth on 911 year ago in Personal More Like This
glowers over the half-hills
rock-eater across the river
turn south of the gaping maw
drink down the starless night
toss out god
let him beg for a ride
in the 10-degree air
and sub-zero heart
voltagemy cracked skullvoltage2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
leaks grey matter &
selenic steam, but dearest,
i can talk myself
into a deity;
i'm a galaxy boy
melting my mind
and we'll rotoh, poet boy,and we'll rot2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
you are not
or honey bones
& you have only
ever been a god
inside of your own head
shhhwe are lurking too close to jesus,shhh3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on the empty edge of a lightless stage,
curved nails digging into the skin of our pale palms.
he asks as an afterthought
do you believe in something holy? and i think yes,
i think this is what i believe in.
carnival ridesJesus came from smoke & moonshinecarnival rides1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
so whenever i blow out candles,
i write God a grocery list and
set fire to wax in the back of a church
with waning moons for parishioners.
faith comes and goes like carousels,
so i guess that means that i can count on clowns
but i can't count on light.
crack your glow sticks upon our congregation
like rainfall amidst the baptized first.
i spend more time in bed with myself
than i do whispering secrets into the
onion paper of Bible pages.
i vandalize hymn books with my favorite lines of poetry.
i never bothered to ask God if he was okay with this,
i've just always been apt at assuming too much.
maybe, when my father's language unfurls like a Persian rug,
i will relearn the taste of cotton candy & confection sugar.
i will build monuments for my convictions
to make up for all those times i just faked it.
maybe, like a holy convict, i will shackle myself
to good deeds that do not self-fulfill but, instead,
teach every lesson i
O' SisterStart with something, whether it be words or thought or action. Just do something, anything to avoid this dissipating grey matter, neurotic erosion.O' Sister3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"I don't exactly remember everything." My words are timid, pensive.
The moments revolve, coil and ignite; flashing images with no particular order.
I scrunch my iceman toes, attempting to conserve heat, but the cold still surpasses the fabric of my Converse. My muscles tense against abrasive arctic gusts. The bitter wind raises bristled hair above goose bumped flesh.
These pink fingers quiver in the grasp of an 'I heart New York" shot glass. I guzzle down Stolichnaya. The vodka is dry-ice against my tongue; molten silver.
Blurred peripherals detect a lone ember drowning in the ashtray, a Marlboro Smooth choking beneath garish glares of moonlight.
"And this kinda s
PillarsIPillars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the sky is sweet milk
the palms are empty
the day hasn't begun
i haven't slept
the light gets everywhere
the light is pale sand
the river sinks
to a minor key
in a song that started out joyous
nobody knows what happened
from up here
i can choose any dry hill
i can see for miles
i put on a shirt
i looked out the window
you burned behind me
even though you slept
you were a city
of subdued light
a stretch of tiny mountains
covered in snow
a single root
softened by rain
when i looked back
the lamp burnt out
the room got blue & soothing
i went back to sleep
in spite of everything happening
i touched you silently
i didn't die
i went to sleep
i am not a supernova boylike a specteri am not a supernova boy2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
speaking in blue x-rays
& writing invisible verses -
love, i am the patron saint
of thieves & mediocrities
Cyclothymia. See,Cyclothymia.2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the truth is you’re
going to wake up empty
and people will ask,
(People always ask like it’s their goddamn business,
and you’re going to try
to pretend that nothing has changed,
you’re the same girl you were
yesterday, you promise,
and you’re trying
to smile, and they’re
trying to smile too,
but you’re not convincing
anyone of anything.
Part-Time HookerI inhale smoke and dirty thoughtsPart-Time Hooker2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
(sleeping with a waste-of-calories
with no sex appeal. her heart
the volume of
smell increases as it's
getting hotter than a
I don't mind her
cold hands around my --
burned out lights form a
silhouette; film this on
screen like a dream
you can watch or hear.
but she doesn't scream;
her bones suffocate me
as she's wrapped around
my body -
she's stiff, cold, dry.
sleeping with a waste-of-calories
with no sex appeal. her heart
doesn't beat. )
Until I can't breathe.