Bits of Nothing 61On paper you're perfect.Bits of Nothing 615 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Isn't it a shame the world isn't made of origami?
Bits of Nothing 145When I feel alone I like to think about the people who mean something to meBits of Nothing 1454 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
like my mum and my dad
and that man whose only role in my life
is to be the person that I walk past every morning at twenty to six
and I imagine we both wonder where each other are going
(sometimes when he's not there I worry about him)
and sometimes at night I walk down the middle of the road
to see if a car will hit me and it never has yet
but I don't think I'll do that anymore
because I'm going to learn to drive soon and I can't stop imagining
how I'd feel if I was the person in the car.
When I was thirteen I used to stand on the tips of my toes
at the edges of bridges and sway
and imagine how it would feel when I hit the ground
and wonder if anyone would be able to fix me afterwards
(OK so it was only one bridge, one time, but it made me feel powerful for a second, like I was in control of my life or something)
Once you told me you thought broken heads could be fixed like broken legs
like you thought you co
TerrorYou canTerror4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Bits of NothingI don't remember what I was going to write but I know that it was succinct and beautiful and it summed up exactly how I feel with the necessary number of words and it wasn't fanciful or over the top or pretentious and now, dream-like, it's gone and I'll never be able to find it again.Bits of Nothing5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Instead, all I have is this and it's everything I didn't want it to be.
I Will Not Tell LiesAfter the fifth beerI Will Not Tell Lies3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she would always
start to speak truths
and they said,
'You shouldn't drink beer,'
but they meant
'You shouldn't speak truths,'
and they would watch her slowly refill her glass.
Bits of Nothing 85I honestly can't remember ever having a week as happy as the one I've just hadBits of Nothing 854 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you didn't start being in my life again until the seventh day.
I've come to a very important realisation:
I don't need you
I want you
and there is a beautiful and comforting difference between those two statements.
ISLNDSyou like the wayISLNDS3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the i slants,
in a sea
in cropped crests
made to full-
in lost chests.
now a motive
and proceed greedily,
the leap's froth;
breath is only
as sweet as the
speech that breeds thought.
Counting ScarsI think the reason you think that you didn't do anything wrong is because you didn't.Counting Scars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
You just broke my heart a little bit, each day.
There was no big scandal,
no dramatic break up.
Just a lot of misunderstandings
and blind, blind stabs in the dark.
I know you think that you didn't do anything wrong;
The trouble is, you didn't do anything right either.
The Green of my Heartbeats5: Red, rude, a bully.The Green of my Heartbeats3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
She was bored, propping her face up on her palms. Her teacher, high-voiced and chirping in fuzzy green flurries, was writing rows of sevens on the board. White chalk. The sevens were glimmering in turquoise, and she smiled.
Sevens were nice, friendly. Seven would never eat nine. Nine was just a baby, like her brother at home.
She was only five. Fives were bullies, nasty. Bright garish red, like B. B was red, but he was not as rude. He forgot things though. Like his keys. Impatient.
She sighed, her head slipping and resting on her wrist. She could feel her pulse on her cheek.
"Seven!" said her teacher, continuing to fill the board. "Say it with me. Seven!"
Later, they got to practice identifying numbers. She had learned before, at home. Kindergarten was not meeting her new knowledge expectations.
Sitting at the table, she strived to make conversation to ease the ache inside her brain. "I like sevens. Aren't they the prettiest color you've ever seen?"
They boy next
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.Superimpose3 years ago in Sketches More Like This
It's strange to see that image superimposed over the current one the distinguished professor in pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, worn brown loafers exuding a faintly courteous manner (you can always tell them by their shoes), and a ring on the fourth finger of his left hand versus the athletic kid who went to college for a semester and grew nine inches too tall to keep doing what he loved so he took up a tennis racquet instead. Gymnasts don't wear suit jackets; no steel mill worker has such manicured nails. But the images are all there, flickering just under the surface and bubbling up again when he's recounting stories about his days in Pi
Harvest MoonThree a.m. moonlightHarvest Moon3 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
across lazy dust motes; a
tree scrapes the window.
Your arm weighs on my hip like
whispered promises of love.
Bits of Nothing 7I fell asleep crying on your floor last night and you didn't notice because you were fast asleep.Bits of Nothing 75 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I only came here because you said I wouldn't dare go home alone and you knew it would work
because you know that is what I fear the most.
If anything was going to convince me of the existance of god then it would be the existance of you.
Maybe, just maybe, you were made in his/her/its image
and somehow they managed to fuck up just a little bit when they made everybody else.
resipiscenthe was one of those dick-faced kids in shades of bright polyester salmon who seemed to always be laughing or looking at me. an ambiguous-named, feminine-famed all-school american douchebag in those quality leather sandals in the wintertime and golf-green shorts.resipiscent3 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
ta give you some background i'm about as far away on the social scale from him as one can get. you know how all the little groups overlap and flap together, pushed around in the wet sand like wave-rivulets blending little facets of stones together until it makes a dune? well our groups---they didn't even touch. i mean you could go from pop-jock to lacrosse to dipper to weed-dealer to hipster to artsy kid to photographer to theatre kid and MAYBE just MAYBE make a weak little chain like one o em shitty-ass jump rings that connect dollar-store lockets. but anyway the point i'm trying to make is we sit on opposite sides of the room and let sociology take its toll.
of course murphy's law works in that i never know anyone. is it that
PressureSomething broke.Pressure3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A hard CRACK while sitting in
a soft chair. No pain registered.
The absence of it
is like watching explosions in space.
You follow the curve of your skull. You remember
how skulls are formed like tectonic plates.
Your head wants to be a planet,
volcanic, living, in change.
You continue to your left shoulder,
the one with all the problems.
But today, it has nothing to say.
Your rib cage moves
like oceanic waves, expecting a storm
that hasn't come.
You stand up,
you consider your legs,
nothing feels wrong,
But you can break
more than your body.
The ElementsI.The Elements3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wine as red as stained glass
is lifted up & tilted back
touch wood like thunder
having given up grace
thread across wrists & palms
spent vessels returning to the heart
Fingertips suffused with pulse
lift to lightning's loveliness
A Pocket Full of SkyWhen I was young, my father would take me to the highest tower of Notre Dame precisely once a year. It would be cold. Freezing. But we'd stand there, and take deep breaths of air, and peer down, towards the tiny ants of people below. Down, towards the sprawling city beneath us. It was always winter, when we'd go. Always cold. Freezing, freezing. But however cold it was, and however dull and bleary the weather, my father would ask one thing, and one thing only: that we adhered to tradition.A Pocket Full of Sky5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
"Lucie," he would say, with the fond smile and kind eyes I always remember. "Lucie, my peach. Whatever you become, and wherever your heart and mind leads you, you must always do for me one small, beautiful thing take a handful of the sky, and place it in your pocket. Take a handful of the sky, and remember, always, that your feet need not always be imprisoned to the ground. Anything you could ever wish for, Lucie, can be yours but only if you study hard, and always feel the freedom of t
ToddThere was a big fanfare when Todd came back. Even a couple of newspaper reporters showed up. It was only right I guess, what with him being dead for a year. At least I think it was a year. I mean, he was gone for eight and I'm pretty sure if a person is missing for seven years the government declares them dead or something. I know that his parents bought a tombstone from the place on First Street a while ago. They put it up in their family lot at the cemetery, next to his grandparents. I went to visit it after the funeral. It had his name and a little inscription. They left the dates off though. After that they took him off the missing persons list too. I know because I used to check it.Todd3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
I'll bet that everyone was real pissed when they found out the truth. He got into town on Tuesday but nobody said a word until Friday. Then on Satur
Bits of Nothing 95Last year was about holding onto things so hard that they started to break.Bits of Nothing 954 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
This year is about learning that everything doesn't fall apart around me if I let go.