on a sundaywhite wine doesn't taste like it used to,on a sunday in Free Verse More Like This
but it gets me there. it gets me
there. my skin is
fascinating. why don't
you ever ask to see it? WH
Y? well everything's so
fucking hilarious now, as my fingers
struggle to hold this pencil
upright. and my eyes kindof move
from one thing to the next. my
mind's jumping from you to him
and this room is cold without
a shirt. why don't you ever
ask to see my skin?
i'll take it off for you (my clothes)
and let the pale
moonlight touch me in ways that
i wish you would. i'll take
it off for you (my skin) and let
you see my insides as
they spill out of my frame.
trace me in chalk, that's
all i ask. call the paramedics when
it's too late. tell them it was
an accident. tell them you loved me.
(i'm telling you to lie.) and
tell them to pump my stomach,
for old time's
2.i've heard my voice on tape and2. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i hate it, that's not what
i sound like, that's not
what i fucking sound like.
my voice sounds like rotted raspberries
bleeding on the ground or
teeth biting tongues or the printing
on paper when the ink is
high tidesit's a high life out here,high tides in Free Verse More Like This
everything is just one bowl away from being better,
everything is just one toke away from being under control.
it's a tide life out here,
the world rushing in like waves trying to consume us,
time rolling out like waves slipping under our feet;
and there's nothing we can do.
high tides are bending the earth,
carving continents like sculpting stone
and pushing the poles out of existence
because the poles have nowhere to go.
high tides are bending this earth
into the shape of an orbit.
high tides are bending all of us,
centimeters every day,
until one day we won't be the same at all;
we'll wake up with different faces
and different names
and in different beds in different houses.
high tides are bending us to mars,
and there's nothing we can do.
someday everything will be a shore;
america, our minds, god,
there's not going to be a chase for inland
15i lost faith in you in august15 in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
when the summer sun kept the night lit
when the summer sun kept me awake,
sunburnt and bruised - angry and abused
i was your puppet - and you were my brother
there were gold stars in a blue sky
that night, waiting outside my window
that night, waiting to binge on my smoke
on the 23rd, i don't eat.
SO YOU SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY?
dun-dun-dun and the carnival goes on.
the theme parks are empty
in my dreams - in the december of my winter
there is one winter left
and decades worth of octobers;
there is no tribute to suicide,
when you know someone who's dead,
you start to rot too - pieces of your heart
start dying and - you'll never be okay again
you'll never be okay again, didn't you realize that daddy?
lose teeshirts - no clothes
pulling strands of hair out - trying to find a crawlspace in my mind
i have a hole in my stomach that your bath water can't fi
10.war is art,10. in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
i can't think with some one else's words in my head
and i can't think when half of my mind is spelling your name,
over and over,
and i can't think with his dick in my head.
i can't dream sober
of you and weed.
it's wish fulfillment, it's instant gratification,
except for the fact that none of it's real.
i am the narcotics yellow light,
i can only go so far without looking back.
but i never go back, i never stop.
i won't stop.
(i fall asleep at the wheel,
i dream that i am driving.)
war is art,
"there is a war going on for your mind."
my head is in headache;
turn the music up 'till they buzz;
wake up in a cold sweat,
look at the dash board from the ba
161. this is a relapse16 in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
my legs are a relapse
milk white skin is a relapse
ashly palms are a relapse
deja vu is a relapse
2. i am not here anymore,
i am leaving
everyone, counciousness, love
i was never here,
i was imagined by my friends,
ressurecrted from nothing
my ribs are all mismatched,
it was not a god who made me
3. in a noose, i will learn
that i never needed air
in a bowl, i will learn
that i never needed to cry
at the end of this earth, i will learn
that i have always been alone
4. everything i have ever seen
has been in a womb
religion from marijuana
as it has always been
we are running away from stories and fears,
but we aren't being chased.
5.fluorescent light sparks on his skin and5. in Free Verse More Like This
his words are soft and filled with promises that
he will never keep.
he's everything i'm not,
he's calm and he knows what he wants.
he smokes his happiness and
watches life pass him by;
like an ocean waving over his heart,
he loves only what he can pack into a bowl.
and i guess it doesn't matter that i slip into his arms perfectly,
because i will never fit into his pipe.
you're the universe.
you are every star and every black hole,
you are the shifting of the galaxies.
you're the colors.
you're the speed of light,
always running and never never looking back.
you are the dreams and you are the waking.
you are the absence of time and you are the time taking.
you are everything screaming at each other,
you are the trying to love and
you are the everything following nothing.
7.there are footsteps in the bottom of my mind and7. in Free Verse More Like This
i can feel my eyes, pink and unblinking, screaming
"I'M CRAZY, LOCK ME UP" but my
mouth is hushing your sixth sense with lies told
too well for thirteen years.
sixteen years, like heavy feet and even
heavier lungs; he's
attaching words to me as if they were wings,
but i'm too afraid of falling to fly.
wings are beautiful dead-weight fariytales,
and so am i.
skin stretched over hips,
eyelashes on your cheeks,
smoke sleep-talking about you on your clothes.
i am the dead weight here,
i am the dead weight here,
in your arms.
"i don't want to let go." you said.
your words hit hard and heavy,
but you're still free.
it's like you're dropping bombs,
but leaving before you see the highways break apart
and the oceans condense beneath screams;
you never stick around to see the
Canceryou haveCancer in Free Verse More Like This
maybe a few hours,
if you're lucky
and a second of over-time,
to take me to your grave.
fifteen percent on your side,
but you need a miracle,
and you gave up on fairy-tales when you were five.
three months back
you were a pers
13.put me on a plane back home,13. in Free Verse More Like This
put me on a plane back home.
you can look forever for something,
and if you never find it
then it's not real
or it's inside you;
a dream swelling up to your heart
like humanity with our skyscrapers and airplanes
swelling up to the tops of our skies,
trying to find heaven.
put me on a plane back home,
i don't want to be here anymore.
i don't want to have to live in the years between.
i can feel nicotine crying out in my head,
and i can feel the THC leaving my body weeks and
i can feel sleep molding behind my
A Quantum of Solace...I have learnedA Quantum of Solace... in Open More Like This
that time does
not heal the
but in its
needs the right
amount of peace.
All that it could have beenYou have become my music to daydream to.All that it could have been in Free Verse More Like This
joys and terrors of creationijoys and terrors of creation in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
continue to climb through,
try to justify the things
the things i
(there is no you)
believing in you
Devoted to my opiateWe are asleep as cold as death,Devoted to my opiate in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Awakened beneath the water.
Baptized transgressions in warm breath,
A bloodied casket used as an altar.
Creatures of emotions drowned in water,
Memories of conversation, not history.
A black bath prayer upon your altar:
Bring me to life this vessel empty.
We fear our un-forgiven history.
Whispers fall in the aftermath.
Remnants, clouds of ash: empty.
One last breath of wrath.
Of all that remains in our aftermath,
We were more beautiful in death.
Someone must get hurt in this wrath,
For Id rather drown within your lullabys last breath.
Taking the Oath of Officethe world is different nowTaking the Oath of Office in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
yet in respects still the same
revolutionary beliefs that had been fought for
seemed to have diminished
do we dare go forward
or remain to allow all forms
human poverty, degradation of human life
rights from the hand of god
pledges made decades and fortnights past
tempered by war our ancient heritage
the unwillingness to commit to change
remains in cynicism and tyranny
our sister republics to the south
we offer a special pledge
no longer your tired, your hungry accepted
good words into good deeds no longer
no assistance of free men, free governments
chains of poverty will remain
peaceful revolutions will be subdued
aggression or subversion anywhere fought
sovereignty of states nations be damn
police of the world we are
instruments of war outpaced those of peace
our tentacles are sufficient beyond doubt
Close up miserable clownI am the evil, the butterflyClose up miserable clown in Free Verse More Like This
An evolution of myself
To hide the hidden
Truth in the world I dont deserve
Look what I have become
What I have done to myself
The dirty creator and herself
All masks on fetish faces
My twisted reality half defunct
A dark rainbow face, an old corpse
Welcome to my world
And no one is leaving this façade
I insist that you stay
For everything is ruined
No diamonds no forever
There will be blood
Our Pleasures were Shallowunder the tearsOur Pleasures were Shallow in Free Verse More Like This
my intimate moments
i don't know how to name it
for you, i will bleed my self dry
as the ghosts you draw on my back
justify your lack of love
Almosta slip of the handAlmost in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
this intimate intrusion
very sweet moment
LurkingIs it a melting sunLurking in Free Verse More Like This
just my self portrait
or an Andy Warhol tribute
I always wanted to be
another failed experiment
Time's Not on Our SideLets dislodge from time -Time's Not on Our Side in Spoken Word More Like This
Minute hands and hourglass sands
Trading minivans for caravans
Were like Peter Pans
Swallowed clocks and Neverlands
Set to dock in Nowhereland.
Lets go where, man?
Its a tyrant ticking on our wrists!
Eating away our sustenance,
Lets dislodge from time and end all this,
Swallowed whole, black holes and lists.
Into another world, another time
how can I dislodge from mine.
Extricate from an age of wonderfalls,
during this great conjunction failing enthralls.
I have met the muffin man:
intervals between down Dury Lane.
Quantify these motions of substance.
Define this moment in time as it bisects
the prologue and folklore .
Forget Bowie in that fairytale of a brochure,
follow these Skeksis of Thra.
Lets dislodge from this time and end all!
ZephyrZephyr in Free Verse More Like This
The boy took out a silver hook
and fastened it to a cobweb
and cast it across the summer night,
hoping for a prize
that he could tuck into his pocket
and put under his pillow
to dream upon.
He wanted to hear ghost stories
and taste wild strawberries
and swim in water so cold and clear
it would dapple his skin blue and make him shiver.
He wanted to catch starfish
and dig for stone crabs under the pier
and eat snow cones until he burst,
painting the night cherry red
He wanted to know the colors of an August moon
and touch the sharp edges of stars
and just for one night
to own the sky...
CarnivalCarnival in Free Verse More Like This
Fingers sticky from taffy apples,
blood oranges and candy floss,
clutch balloons like long lost ghosts
and the wrappers of sweets
scatter across the wooden pier
where a sideshow barker sits -
one finger crooked in welcome,
his mind the faded posters
of your curiosity
Coins spill from your fingers -
shiny copper to cross palms
as a strangers smile
bewitches your steps
and lures you in.
Childrens bright shoes flash
the whirl of painted ponies
and music rattling like tin
while overhead the Ferris Wheel
like a twisted top.
The clowns crayon slick smile
darts like a razor
and dares you to follow
behind the mirrors
into the maze.
And under the big top
an acrobat hangs
like a tiny doll -
wires crossed, net cut,
twitching like a slip knot,
as the crowd holds its breath,
waiting for the show.
MagicA wrought iron balcony,Magic in Free Verse More Like This
overgrown with jasmine
frames the summer evening,
pulls magic from doorways
and sends it spinning into the wanton dark
with a clatter of glass beads
and raw red saxophone.
Voodoo heat bleeds out low and blue,
bubbles under door sills
and over window ledges
to set the city humming.
The jazz blast of feet on cobblestones -
a parade of tourists,
washed in summer and silk
shake graveyard dust from their shoes
and disappear into the long, languid dark
among the palm readers and card tricksters
crouched in the curl of a summer dream.
The warm slit of night beckons me,
welcomes me with open arms
and leads me to where you ponder enchantment -
your moon slashed eyes half closed on the world,
taking in its secrets between sips
of rum laced coffee and heavy cream.
Your cheeks spangled like carnival glass
in every hue of my desire,
sweat beaded up like tiny pearls on toffee skin.
Leaning in, I taste taboos from your tongue
that sear my mouth with the
False ProphetThe road killFalse Prophet in Free Verse More Like This
of your thoughts
trips you up,
and spills you out
on hot asphalt
and bright pins,
and shards of black glass,
dug deep under your nails.
you spin and weave trouble
like spiders in jars,
where legs tangle
and eyes grow beady
in the tight air
with wasted time
like a twisted clock
the black threads of your lies
with your sharp white teeth
hanging like old news
in the corner,
as withered as your heart
spat out like demon seed
in someone else's head.
WiresI caught youWires in Free Verse More Like This
walking out on wires again,
falling out my window
in a trick so beautiful
that your father wept
and your lover
held his breath.
You called it
an act of defiance
in that voice
that brings me to my knees
and begs me
to argue with you
when you know
that all I really want to do
is strip the pain
from your insides
and bed you
Rogue Diaries VRogue Diaries V in Horror More Like This
I found them in a run down hovel on one of Savannah's decrepit back streets - certainly not a neighborhood any sane mortal would haunt after dark. The place was beyond seedy, best described by the word, "dump". The exterior was all but crumbling - the steps to the porch splitting and pocked with holes, its railing dangling crazily off into the bushes - everything bespeaking neglect and wanton misuse. The interior was no better... the walls were without color - countless coats of peeling paint dissolved over time by grease. The floors were dirty, sticky with beer and urine, and other substances I shuddered to even think about. A solitary light bulb illuminated the darkness, casting stark shadows against the filthy walls. And in that dim arc of hell, I saw a woman seated at a broken table - it had one leg missing and the faded veneer top was peeling away. She had a single companion. -a man who appeared to be passed out, his head down on the table, an obvious victim of too much alcohol an
Fate Lines, Part VIFate Lines, Part VI in Horror More Like This
I awoke without any idea as to the time, and vaguely aware of someone shaking me. Cautiously opening one eye, the features of a young woman slowly came into focus. Sitting up, I was greeted by a piercing pain reverberating all over my head and a garble of frenzied words from the pink lips moving in front of me. I felt horribly hung over, which was most annoying, given that I had not a thing to drink the night before. The young lady's words finally broke through the miasma clouding my senses and I realized that she had been sent by my beloved Adelise to fetch me immediately to her chambers - a thought that made me cringe as it could only mean some sort of fresh drama was afoot. My hands groped the floor around me, although I really was not searching for anything, and I felt a slight wave of revulsion roll over and through my body when my fingers made contact with some thing wet and dark on the floor next to me. Before I had a chance to discover what it was , a fresh torrent of nearly hy
Conversation with God IYou got mad at me that dayConversation with God I in Free Verse More Like This
I got high on communion wine
your rosary around my hips
and told you I could talk to God.
I could read the lines
on his cheeks
right through these calloused palms
and I loved
how his voice rose up
tempered and clear like spring,
not thin and waspy
like you promised.
He called me by name
and while his coat was too long
for me to see his feet,
I knew he did not wear shoes
and anger was not his road.
He took my hand to walk
and told me
there was no shame
in falling with grace
and that the broken
would always be heroes in his eyes
because they know
what it is like
a crown of thorns.
He promised me
the dark would learn
a new way
and there would be
blood of lambs
spilled in his name
and that the garden
would be ours again....
GiftGift in Free Verse More Like This
The other children said
he had crazy eyes
and made fun
of how his mother dressed him
and refused to understand
why he liked strange colors
and would not play
with his toys.
They could not get used to
the voices he heard,
or how he traced their faces
with his fingers
and pronounced them good
and were scared
of the way his hands made music
from plain air.
They misread his language
and thought he conjured demons
in the quiet glade
where no birds sang.
But the boy only shrugged
and smiled quietly to himself
at their puzzles.
he knew the gift of imperfection
its fierce magic
and how to catch beauty
and turn bad luck into an omen
and that different was a fine art
that would one day
save the world.
HospitalIt paints bleak picturesHospital in Free Verse More Like This
with brushes dipped in you -
the terse blues
of lonely winters
spent with dying family
in the shuffling white
where feet clattered
and death beds reeked
of sour pity,
the aching red
looming under blankets
and propping up pillows,
of battered sunlight
spilled across bedpans
and oxygen tanks
and the bleached
and silver grey
of the nurse's
dahlia girl.i used to let you backhand me acrossdahlia girl. in Free Verse More Like This
the face because crying turned you on.
your palm stung and burned my cheeks
bright red, but it was strangely beautiful.
you called me your little dahlia, your little
candleflame, and kissed my jaw where
your fingers left treadmarks.
"love means making sacrifices."
i said nothing, just wiped away a few
premature tears and traced the fireworks
blooming on my face.
you used to fall asleep in the grass with
me, and we'd wake up with petals stuck
in our eyebrows and grass stains on our
lips. our lazy kisses tasted like rain.
"love means throwing handfuls of grass at
each other. love means 3:00 AM bubble
baths. love means wishing on shark teeth
and broken seashells and stoplights."
"okay, sweetie," you say absentmindely,
brushing errant twigs from my hair.
"what comes on tv tonight?
one year later you asked me what love
meant again, but by then it was much
"is it holding hands? remembering to buy
cereal? letting me to
interstate 81.there's a metal star that is wasting away on a hill overlooking interstate 81. it blends in with the surrounding area; you can't really even see it unless you know it's there.interstate 81. in Free Verse More Like This
and no one does.
i like to think that it is a signboard from god, and i make tiny little prayers on it. my religion is in curling wires and burned out light bulbs, and my lord is the same colour as the sky and the treetops. honestly, i believe that rusting metal has as much a chance as anything for inspiring faith.
there's a deer lying broken on the side of the road. it's sprawled in a shallow ditch with its four legs splayed awkwardly, hooves plowing tiny furrows in the dirt. the unnatural curve of its neck is so graceful and elegant that i want to tell someone but have nothing worth saying.
there's a boy who sometimes wears glasses and sometimes doesn't. he lets me talk about lunar eclipses and rest my weary head against his chest and keeps my possessions safe when i'm too drunk to care. he tells me, "you make
kitestrings.you confessed that when you were little you would pull apart monarch butterflies because they were much too beautiful--kitestrings. in Free Verse More Like This
so beautiful that they made you feel uneasy.
(you always did call me the most beautiful thing you'd ever known.)
it's almost december now, and the only reason i wish you were here is so you could make snow angels and i could rip off their wings.
you wanted a kite for your birthday, so i got you one that was shaped like a bat and we took it to the beach, watched it crash into the surf over and over until it was bent and broken. i rescued it from the tide and surfaced dripping saltwater -- you told me i looked like the goddess of sailors lost at sea.
after that day you put the kite in the back of your closet and forgot about it, but immediately began talking about getting a new one.
that could fly higher.
i sometimes tell myself that we were never meant to be because i was stuck in the ocean watching people drown while you were hanging from
borderline nostalgic.i used to stand in the middle of the railroad track on sundays, one foot on either side of the county border line, just so i could tell you that i was in two places at once.borderline nostalgic. in Free Verse More Like This
you would shake your head in that disapproving, familiar way, and tell me that no one could be in two places at once, and besides, standing on railroad tracks was illegal, and i had better watch it or else i was liable to get ticketed.
i informed you that wanting to live a little was not illegal.
the day you died i rode full speed down the nearby hill with my bare legs on the handlebars of my mother's bike, the sun shining full in my eyes. i swear to god my hands lifted off the handlebars and flew away, and to this day i still can't find them, but you, you know where they are.
i got a ticket for walking on those railroad tracks and two weeks ago i rode down that hill remembering you, and when i crashed at the bottom i thought i felt you hold my hand.
but no one can be in two places at once.
amor de lejos.you used to blow into my ear while i wasamor de lejos. in Free Verse More Like This
trying to fall asleep.
i'd laugh and pull off both of our shirts, kiss
you chest and ears and eyelids until neither
of us could breathe. afterwards you'd sleepily
call me your little snuggle puppy, curve your
body around mine, and just when you'd close
your eyes i'd laugh and blow into your ear.
we never used to have any change because
we'd go downtown and feed the parking meters
by hand, like they were curious metal monsters.
you could never resist helplessness, which is
probably why you love me.
i used to make up songs about your socks.
i used to rub your back in front of your parents.
i used to fiddle with your knees while you drove.
i used to cry on the phone to you about my ex.
i used to tell you that you and i would never be
anything more than friends.
(i used to believe it, too. but you never did.)
you used to wear jeans that were dyed fuschia.
you used to finish off my bowls of melted ice cream.
you used to push me on the swings, higher,
fifty-seven degrees.i.fifty-seven degrees. in Free Verse More Like This
it is summer and i want to write you poems
about how it is fifty-seven degrees and i am shaking.
it is summer and i want to crawl through your second-story
window and tell you about the butterfly i saw and named "cloudcityscandal,"
but you are always asleep and dreamless.
it is summer and whenever i sleep i only dream about you, so how is that fair.
it is summer and i don't go to church but spend all my time confessing.
it is summer and i don't discharge static before pumping gas.
it is summer and where is my paradise. where is my sanity.
where is my personal weight-loss consultant and complimentary iced beverage.
it is summer and i am already wishing it were spring.
when i was five i made a green and purple
friendship bracelet at summer camp.
i don't know where it is,
but sometimes it's all i want.
you and i hike up past the clouds until
the rain and cold can't touch us.
we have three bruised shins and two quiet
arguments between us, and we name them summer.
(you climb moun
telling a sad story backwards-17.telling a sad story backwards- in Short Stories More Like This
it smells like grief and sterilized metal.
i climb into andrews bed, though the nurses have strictly forbidden it. he closes his eyes and holds me tightly, because he says when he cant see me, it is easier to pretend i never happened to him.
he pushes the cart aggressively down the aisle, pretending to mow over old ladies doing their sunday shopping.
"stop," i say giggling, lobbing a can of ravioli at him.
for a moment i think he simply didn't see me throw the can; it glances off his chest and falls to the floor, exploding in a pattern of red arrows. i don't notice his eyes rolling back in his head or the graceful way his body collapses to the floor.
the only thing i notice is the distinct thudding sound as his head hits the metal shelf and the screaming that may or may not be mine.
later in the hospital he calls for me and says he wants to apologize for keeping secrets, and the doctors launch into a medical explanation of his cancer.
their eyes are sad.
NPR three minute story submissionShe closed the book, placed it on the table, and finally, decided to walk through the door. That low rumble had been Tom's temperamental engine; she was sure of it. The sound had tattooed itself on the inside of Anna's ears ages ago. Maybe he was sitting in the front seat of his car, trying to work up the courage to knock. Maybe his brows would knit together and his mouth would quirk and he would say, "I missed you, Sunshine," though he had never once called her by that nickname. Maybe she could apologize, and he would kiss the insides of her wrists, the back of her neck, her eyelids.NPR three minute story submission in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Yes, she could hear a car door opening. If she listened hard she thought she could even make out the rustle of his corduroy jacket.
Go outside, said her heart.
Wait, said her brain.
She began to count aloud. "One, two, three, four"
Anna was eight when her baby brother was born. He was little more than a fragile bag of bones and organs, an accident waiting to break her heart. Every night she'd snea
the perfect strangershe misses colin the most at night, when, waking from nightmares, her hand reaches out into the darkness for someone who is no longer there.the perfect stranger in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
an unexpected message flares briefly on her screen, long enough for her heart to drop into her stomach in surpriseher ex-boyfriend's little sister's ex-boyfriend? sighing, she types a hello and strains her memory to recall what she knows of this boy from their one brief meeting. his name is aaron. tall. shaggy bed-head hair. sleepy hazel eyes. she lightly touches the keyboard, entertaining the notion that other people might feel as lonely at night as she does.
"tell me a secret," she types to him.
"why should I put my trust in you?" he asks, surprised.
"who better to trust than a stranger?"
so he does.
a five minute secret turns into an hour long story, then a night-long conversation.
the next morning, after telling this boy how colin broke her, she wakes to a message in her inbox:
The world is yours.
Boys are stupid.
numbit is two o' clock in the morning and i can't sleep. or i sleep too much. one of the two, and the pills make three. they stew and burn the back of my throat; the chemicals dissolve and form words.numb in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
the medical literature didn't say anything about that. or the numbness in my arms and legs. the tingling has crept up my right leg for the past week, weaving itself between my toes and nipping at the back of my knee. maybe it's a side effect, or maybe it's diabetes. or a blood clot. maybe my foot will need to be amputated, and i will have to hobble down the aisle for our wedding.
he coughs beside me, still fast asleep, and i touch one of his eyebrows so softly that maybe i am imagining the wiry hair against my fingertip. will he still love me if i only have one foot? i could ask him. i should shake him into reality and tell him about the burn and the tingling and the wedding photos that i will likely ruin.
"i'm sorry," i say, just to hear the words aloud, but he doesn't wake up.
the one tha
Sonia's sickness-ThursdayOn Thursday morning, Sonia was even worse. She couldn't speak properly, and the only thing she could really do was moan.Sonia's sickness-Thursday in General Fiction More Like This
"....S-Sona-chan...." 1800-IDIOCY said quietly. "I...I'm going to watch Molly at an Archery tournament. I promised I would, ages ago. You....you don't mind, do you?"
Sonia weakly smiled, and shook her head.
"Of course not, kiddo!" she gasped. "It's....i-it's all good!"
"....take this" Sonia rasped, handing 1800-IDIOCY her mobile phone. "If...it goes wrong...someone will call you. Priscila....she changed the ringtone, so....you'll...you'll know it when you hear it"
"Yes" 1800-IDIOCY said solemnly.
"I'd come with you.....but...." Sonia rasped. "I don't...want to spread the....deadly Sona-chan disease.."
1800-IDIOCY smiled weakly, and hugged Sonia.
"Don't worry, Sona-chan!" she said nervously. "I'll come back if something goes wrong, and that's a promise!"
Sonia smiled again as 1800-IDIOCY slowly left the room.
It'll all be good....I promise....
Sonia's sickness-Wednesday"Today, it's OUR turn to look after Sonia!" Kim declared.Sonia's sickness-Wednesday in General Fiction More Like This
"Who's helping you?" Hitokiri asked.
"Nat, of course!" Kim scoffed. "Jeez, Hitokiri!"
"I am?" Nat asked through a mouthful of toast.
"Yes" Kim said. "I don't think Sonia's getting any better, either. We have to do something!"
Nat and Kim peered into Sonia's room. Sonia was tossing and turning in bed, and she couldn't stay still.
"If anything, she's getting worse and worse every day" Kim said quietly. "And if her temperature keeps rising like this...she could die if we're not careful!"
"Sssh!" Nat hissed. "Don't let Lauren, Priscilla or Andrew find out, or they'll go into a total hysteria!"
"Gah, I forgot about that" Kim whispered. She then raised her voice. "Sonia! Sonia! Wake up already!"
Sonia shot up in bed.
"LAURENDON'TTOUCHTHEOVEN!" she shrieked. She gasped for breath before finally realising that it was all good. "Oh my god"
"Sonia, are you ok?" Nat asked.
"N-Not really" Sonia gasped. "I just had a nightmare...Priscilla tu
ATTACK OF THE CLONES D8 -1-One morning in the Senshi house, all was peaceful. 1800-IDIOCY slowly opened her eyes...and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. Her eyes widened instantly, and she shrieked as loud as she could.ATTACK OF THE CLONES D8 -1- in General Fiction More Like This
"SONIA!" she shrieked. "SONA-CHAN!"
She leapt out of bed, and got a view of her attacker. When Sonia burst into the room, she and 1800-IDIOCY both yelled.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" they shrieked.
"I'm being attacked by myself?!" 1800-IDIOCY cried. Sure enough, what looked like an exact clone of 1800-IDIOCY was standing on the bed. Only she wasn't wearing pyjamas, she was holding a gun, and she had just attempted to murder 1800-IDIOCY.
"Lauren-chan!" a sharp voice said out of nowhere. "How many times have I told you, don't kill anyone unless it's neccessary!"
Sonia and 1800-IDIOCY looked around uneasily.
"Who is that..." Sonia said quietly. 1800-IDIOCY's closet door swung open, and a clone of Sonia leapt out.
"HI!" she said brightly. 1800-IDIOCY shrieked again, and dove behind the normal Son
SAJ IS LEAVING SAYWHUTNOW -7-"Where in God's name are Kim and Nat?!" Hitokiri cried. "This is really starting to piss me off!"SAJ IS LEAVING SAYWHUTNOW -7- in General Fiction More Like This
"We'll find them eventually" Saj tried to reassure her. "But for now, I don't know where they'd be. So we have to keep searching-Mikaela, are you ok?"
Mikaela's eyelids were drooping, and she looked absolutely exhausted. Hitokiri sighed heavily.
"You're only getting away with this because you're 9" she said. "If you were older I'd tell you to suck it up and deal with it, but you're 9. So...you can go back to the house, if you like"
"Ok" Mikaela said sleepily. "Tell me if you find Medium One or Nat and Kim. I really hope that you find them"
With that, she grabbed her Luna P.
"Luna P, take me home!" she commanded. With a bright pink explosion she disappeared, and Andrew sighed.
"At this rate, we'll never find them" he sighed.
"Ah, I thought it would be open!" Nat said gleefully, pushing the door open.
"We're taking refuge in your dad's video game company?" Kim asked with raised eyebrows.
The Pinnacle of TerrorIt was a rare moment in the Senshi house...all the adults were out of the house.The Pinnacle of Terror in General Fiction More Like This
"So we get the ice cream to ourselves, BIG WHOOP" Kim snorted. "No need to be excited!"
"I know they're just out shopping...but...that takes them HOURS!" Mikaela said happily. "We can do anything we want!"
"No, we can't" 1800-IDIOCY sighed. "Sona-chan can tell if I steal even just ONE cookie"
"Well, she won't notice if I steal one!" Mikaela giggled. She was about to snatch one, when Nat suddenly ran into the kitchen.
"Cloverway's in our front yard!" she exclaimed.
"What is she doing?!" Saj demanded.
"Setting up five massive Pinnacles of Terror...no seriously, they are about ten times their normal height" Nat sighed. "We better go out and investigate"
The others nodded, and followed Nat into the front yard.
"Hey! Redheaded bitch!" Kim yelled. "What're you doing in our front yard?!"
Cloverway flew to the ground, and smiled slightly.
"Oh, setting up the Pinnacle of Terror..." she said. "See? It's like
Sonia's sickness-Tuesday"Ok, today it's MY turn to look after Sonia!" Priscilla declared.Sonia's sickness-Tuesday in General Fiction More Like This
"Sure thing" everybody else shrugged. Priscilla saluted the Senshi, and ran off in the direction of Sonia's room. Hitokiri sighed.
Just because Lauren isn't in direct contact with Sonia doesn't mean that the madness has stopped...
"I'm going to bake a cake today!" 1800-IDIOCY declared. "And you can't stop me!"
"Yes, we can" Nat said simply, and in the space of about two seconds she had duct taped 1800-IDIOCY's mouth shut and handcuffed her to the mailbox outside.
"MMMMMMPPPPPHHHH!!!!" 1800-IDIOCY shrieked.
"Priscilla" Sonia said weakly. "I'm not feeling much better at all"
"I can tell" Priscilla said, putting the thermometer in Sonia's mouth. "I heard you throw up again last night"
"Gah, I tried not to wake anyone" Sonia sighed. "Obviously that failed"
"Less talking, more getting better" Priscilla said.
"Urf indeed, Sonia" Priscilla shrugged. "I'll give you 'urf' if you're not careful"
Sonia's sickness-FridayOn Friday, everybody was very tired from lack of sleep.Sonia's sickness-Friday in General Fiction More Like This
"I couldn't sleep at all last night" Priscilla sighed, sipping her coffee.
"Neither could I" 1800-IDIOCY whispered.
"Gee, I wonder why!" Nat snapped. "Anyway, we have to invade Cloverway today!"
"Sure thing-but maybe after my coffee" Priscilla grumbled.
When the Senshi finally got to Cloverway, the CEO was waiting for them in the room with the cloning tanks. The tanks were tall. So tall they reached up to the roof.
"Nice to see you, jerkbags" the CEO grinned. "Where's the pancake maker?"
Everybody gasped-nobody had thought to stay at home and look after Sonia.
"Shit!" Hitokiri cried. "Whose turn was it?!"
"I don't know!" Andrew cried.
"Well, it doesn't matter" the CEO snorted. "I have her, and the cloning process for her is almost complete!"
Everybody turned to look at Sonia's clone. Inside the tube, the Sonia clone was floating around aimlessly. Her eyes were blank, and
SAJ IS LEAVING SAYWHUTNOW -9-When Kim and Sonia got home, nothing much was happening. Priscilla and 1800-IDIOCY were on the couch in the living room, staring intently at the calendar.SAJ IS LEAVING SAYWHUTNOW -9- in General Fiction More Like This
"So I have an archery tournament in two weeks, and two weeks after that Sona-chan and I are going to Manifest. On the 21st it's Saj's birthday, and the day after that it's Mikaela's. And I'm sure that heaps of other stuff is going to happen as well" 1800-IDIOCY was saying.
"Shit, we have a busy month ahead" Priscilla said.
"I thought I told you guys to stay in bed!" Sonia exclaimed, but Priscilla and 1800-IDIOCY pretended not to hear her.
"Guys, we're home!" Sonia said, a little louder. "And I have Kim!"
Everybody instantly stopped what they were doing, and rushed to Sonia's side.
"KIM!" 1800-IDIOCY yelled, lunging at Kim.
"No hugs!" Kim snarled, grabbing 1800-IDIOCY's wrist and throwing her to the ground.
"Kim!" Mikaela yelled, trying to hug Kim.
"NO!" Kim growled, grabbing Mikaela by the shirt and slamming her into the wall.
The 4kids invasion -5-When the Senshi and Blue got to the house, 1800-IDIOCY grabbed Sonia's sleeve.The 4kids invasion -5- in General Fiction More Like This
"Sonaaaaa!" she hissed. "Why are you being so nice to Blue?!"
"You will see, kiddo" Sonia said with a smirk. ""You will see"
"I don't wanna wait!" 1800-IDIOCY hissed. "Tell me now!"
Sonia only shook her head and went into the kitchen. 1800-IDIOCY stood there looking confused for a bit before finally following her.
The Senshi and Blue sat down at the table, and Sonia served them their pancakes. She smirked a bit before sitting at her place.
"Sona!" 1800-IDIOCY hissed. Sonia didn't reply. Well, not in the way that 1800-IDIOCY wanted her to.
"Eat your pancakes, kiddo" she said. She then whispered, "You will see in a minute. Now shut up, please"
1800-IDIOCY sighed and did as she was told. Meanwhile, the rest of the Senshi started to eat their pancakes. Blue looked at hers closely for a few minutes.
"Is this some kind of clever plot?" she asked suspiciously. "A plot to kill me?"
"Nope" Sonia replied with a grin.
The 4kids invasion -4-"Why didn't you listen to me?!" Mikaela shrieked. "WHY?! HUH?!"The 4kids invasion -4- in General Fiction More Like This
"I'm sorry, Mikaela" Sonia sighed.
"IF YOU HAD LISTENED TO ME JUST ONCE, THEN MAYBE-"
"I SAID, I'm sorry!" Sonia snapped.
"So shut your goddamn mouth!" Priscilla added. It was the next morning, and tempers were quite short.
"You are going to school today, so as to not raise suspicion" Hitokiri told Saj, Nat and Kim. "And for the love of God, STAY OUT OF TROUBLE!"
"Alright, alright" Nat sighed.
When Saj, Kim, Mikaela and Nat left, Priscilla and the other adults glanced at each other.
"What'll happen if Blue gets them as well?" Andrew asked. Priscilla narrowed her eyes.
"Then we'll kick her ass into oblivion" she snarled. "She doesn't deserve to live"
Sonia frowned a little.
"I think I have a better idea...." she said slowly. "Priscilla, where did the eggs end up?"
"In the fridge. Why?"
"Because I'm gonna need them. A lot of eggs....."
"Are we egging Blue in the face?!" Priscilla asked eagerly.
"No, no" Sonia sighed. "I have
Left-Over MaybesShe made a practice of shooting falling stars in the head.Left-Over Maybes in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
"It's better this way"
and never stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, they'd miss earth and see infinity before they learned what it meant to be stardust.
(Or maybe she did, but couldn't bring herself to believe in anything other than a quick end. )
Hearts and Elevators5th Floor:Hearts and Elevators 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
Beautiful BoyBeautiful Boy,Beautiful Boy in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Dear Beautiful Boy,
You're name is Beautiful because handsome only touches the physical, but Beautiful can be beautiful heart, mind, soul, smile. I could make a list of handsome(s), but I will only ever need one beautiful.
the end.This time, I'm not writing about you. (that sentence itself belies the lie doesn't it?) Its ten in the evening, I could give you the exact minutes, and milliseconds, but, time is relative so it would hardly matter. I'm not sure why I'm thinking about you. No. I take that back. I do. I've just been trying not to.the end. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
So I won't.
Its ten in the evening, and I'm thinking about tomorrow. I'll wake up at six, and watch the sun rise through the spring leaves, and when the sky fades from grey to blue, I won't think of your eyes or the way the light caught in them and stayed there as if it couldn't bear to leave. I won't look for you when I step out my front door, or wait for you to appear around the corner. I will not check my phone. No. I will. I'll just tell myself I didn't, or that somone else was supposed to call.
Its elementary my dearest, so heartbreakingly easy, isn't it?
...27... She wore barbed wire necklaces so that every time she laughed, it hurt....27... in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Little Freckles Frankie was the first to make her laugh so hard she bled. He was ten, she was eleven. I dont think he has found anything funny since. It was too bad really, baby blue eyes tend to twinkle when they laugh.
I caught her counting the scars in the bathroom mirror once. They were soft puckers of white against sun tanned copper, they would have been morbid, if they werent so beautiful. There were 27. I met the reflection of her blatant blue eyes with my broken brown, and she said,
LaciniateHe drinks a glass of red wine every night before bed.Laciniate in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
He always uses the same glass.
It would be perfect, if not for the crack that runs up its fragile stem to flower against the rim, the shivering petals opening into jagged chips, just to the left of his lips.
It's still beautiful.
Just like him.
I bought him a new set for his birthday last year.
You would think they were invisible if it werent for that layer of dust that found them, even in the cabinet above his sink.
He cant seem to find a good enough reason to get a new one, or one he likes any better. (he tells me) But I know he cut himself on the rim, and stood staring, as his blood slipped across its surface. He still has the scar.
He cries salt every night for the sake of being picky.
They drank a glass of wine every night before bed, watching the sun set on the water washed cliffs, and drove home smiling in the fading glow of yellows and gold.
Until one night,
when they never quite made it home.
Only one glas
This.This world is filled with questions.This. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
We ask each other, when we first meet: What do you do for a living? Whos your favorite author? Whats your favorite color?
And were left still, with the emptiness of I dont know you.
We forget to ask the questions that really mean something, and we forget how to speak in intimate I know you ways of sisters and brothers and friends forever. We forget to ask about why you turned your eyes away, or what do you dream of? Not, where do you want to go in life? But what do you dream.
We forget to remember.
The details, just the little details,
and eventually we forget the outline of a person we never quite managed to fill in all the way, leaving scattered bits and pieces of pigment and color across a canvas that was never finished.
We forget how to answer. We often dont know what to say when the right question comes along, and that right moment passes us by, and we
PenumbraHe sprinkled glitter between the sheets of her bed and said;Penumbra in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
Now you can sleep among the stars.
She woke cold, exhaling icy comet trails, and wishing shed reminded him how empty space was; (wishing shed remembered to tell him all she wanted was to sleep among his arms.)
. i'm sorry .
She collected atoms and draped them over his shoulders in pearlescent strands until the shadows of his skin sweated starlight. Her eyelashes brushed against the flesh of his wrist as she shut out the sight of his empty eyes, her lips/mouth/heart kissing the white marble wave hiding the pulse in his arm. (a blistered thumb spanned the ravine, a pile of melted razors at her feet)
She whispered to his veins,
Dear heroes of mine,
be strong a little longer
and tell this to his heart
tell him for me
that i brought him universes
infinity in the infinitesimal
i brought him
everything he has ever been to me.
it isn't better this way
Andabate I never knew before I met you that fingernails and blood were as effective in making a statement as the word Fuck during Sunday morning tea parties (the ones with porcelain teapots and flowery doilies).Andabate in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
You stuck dont worry Ill fix you nails into my bone marrow and bleached them skeleton white with the acid seeping from beneath your slick and slimy tongue. This way, when they turn to look at me, they will see a human deformity instead of you deforming me.
You taught me the meaning of decorum and discretion (the difference between you and me), but only, when I needed it the most. Ha. I keep telling myself the scent of cinnamon and powder is all
minus ten seconds to infinityThe sound of your breath is spooned somewhere between my forearm and ear in the curve of this oceanside whorl of protein and calcium. You pound in my blood, against my eyes, my ears, my fingertips, traces of you linger yet beneath my fingernails, and snuggle beneath my tongue like old saliva.minus ten seconds to infinity in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
My liver is marked with the breadth and pattern of your teeth, and will not share space with the Eagles or the vagrant Gods of War. No.
The tributaries of my palm have dedicated to memory the feel of your heartbeat as I watched its palpitating summer rush fall into the whitewater cascades, and leave the desert Pyramids standing empty.
Today I lied to hermit crabs seeking home. I, am not empty, and I am home to no one but you.
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. 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
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. 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
fractured clocks.Anxiety is a hummingbird in the throat of those who wait.fractured clocks. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Palms wring oceans and pulses flood plains until time chokes on itself to leave the minutes battling on the brink of insanity. Each second is an entity that stands on its own, a demon to be fought and conquered. Each breath is a challenge, the air tangled in lungs before clacking teeth drag it forward to throw it shuddering into the wind. Heavy footprints echo fears on the walls, possibilities birthing and maturing and turning from fledgling shadows into heavy-handed fiends.
The door remains closed. Time ticks on.
Thunder coughs in comparison to the heart roaring across the deserted field of ribcages. Earthquakes are naught but a shrug to the desperate thrashing of imagination in the back of bruised skulls. Waiting expands, billows, an etching in a sapling blossomed into a mural on the bark of the oak. Terror of conclusions slips into the bloodsteam of unrealized futures. Imagined details swell into grotesque likelihoods, the mi
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. 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!
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. 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
skewed perceptions.it sounds poetic.skewed perceptions. 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
set the broken bones.call me a fool.set the broken bones. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i won't sew your mouth closed, i won't block your path. call me heartless and i'll split open my chest to show you what's pulsing, what's bruised and lacerated and aching like hell but still alive. i'll show you my scars and my burns, i'll turn my neck and show you the jagged slice where i was foolish enough to trust a knife against my throat.
call me weak.
i won't rage against the accusation, i won't deny with vigorous defiance. i'll sit and absorb each and every slur because i know you'll never understand. i'll take the wicked slices and soak them in, my skin cut open and bare. i'll let you paint me into a corner and i won't try to leave. i'll open my hands and stand with my palms facing the sun. i'll sigh and stand with my ribs dropping slowly one by one to my feet.
call me broken.
i won't shake my head, i won't cut off the insults. i'll just lift my shirt and show you where i've staunched the blood. i'll show you the homemade stitches, the places where circumstance
we are eternity.Tell me, darling, how do we best count time?we are eternity. 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
i'm choking.i am sitting with smoking nerves andi'm choking. in Free Verse More Like This
frayed circuit wires, everything i don't
know knotting together for me to choke
if there is a door, i can't find it.
if there is an answer, i'm unaware.
instead i am falling to my knees and
crawling under the smoke, eyes watering
and knuckles bleeding. no closer to the end
than when i had begun.
if i had the courage, i'd crack open your ribs
and get the answer for myself. if i was brave,
i'd simply reach over and pinch the truth from
or i'd just tie my heart to the railroad tracks
and wait for you to save it. wait for you
to cradle it and whisper that the time for
pinched nerves and scraped knees is over.
but i am confused and cowardly, clutching
my chest, palms feebly protecting the only
thing i have left to defend. the only thing i
have left worth guarding.
and the thing that scares me most is not that
you might hurt me. it's not that i might end
up with a scar or a burn or a weeping laceration.
the thing that has me trembling wit
the fear of falling.i'm living my life with fear bubbling up my throat.the fear of falling. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
i'm guarding my heart with iron lace and gritted teeth because even the prospect of getting burned is enough to leave me on the porch. i'm trembling like autumn leaves, my spine cracking like an age-worn book, eroding at a hundred words a minute into a pile of rubble that is getting lost in the wind. i'm putting my toe in the water and easing around the edge, keeping my back to the wall and running like hell when i reach the exit.
because i'm pavlov's dog and when that bell strikes, i'm already diving for cover. because your eyes look like an earthquake and i only know one surefire way to avoid falling down the fault line. i can't get hurt if i never play the game, i can't get scarred if i never approach the flame. i'm tasting the arsenic with the tip of my tongue but i'm not able to brave downing the entire bottle. because i've been down this road before and left bloody footprints on my staggering way home. i've been at this cross po
Tempest Temptressthose auburn waves crashTempest Temptress in Free Verse More Like This
around her neck and shoulders
snake veins of the
and now she's sweet,
her ashes on the tip of
scalded, jaded, and dwindling fast
still you loiter, linger, and lounge
in her unaccommodating
you can't protect her from
the demons in her head
when she won't let you in
her ribs cage only empty space,
and when it's not love all the time,
it's not love at all.
Letters1) i wrote you a poem. or two. or something. i don't really know if you'll want them. you never liked poetry much, only mine. i always wonder how much you think about me. i'd like to imagine that you still do.. though i'm sure your life would be easier if you didn't have to. you know i'm sorry.. so sorry.. that's always the first feeling i get when i think of you. we were cursed from the start. and now, well what about now? it's not even really a fair question. you have a 'now' but i don't. you're just.. what i'm trying to say is.. i said always and i meant it. i still mean it. it's just that sometimes love isn't quite enough.Letters in Letters More Like This
2) the songs didn't used to mean you, but all the sudden.. i don't think you will ever realize how much i've counted on you and how much you've let me down. inject and fuck yourself to jupiter and back and you know that i'll still believe whatever the hell you say when you come home. youknow that iknow that youknow and weknow that n o t h i n g
Sundreamsi.Sundreams in Free Verse More Like This
she had to be taught to
she hasn't forgotten (any
though she wishes
train track forearms,
sickly eyes of a
just enough to flood his
palms on her sapling
b o n e s.
Rain on RosesI can't help but sit on my porch swing,Rain on Roses in Free Verse More Like This
rocking to the show tunes that play in my head,
drinking sunny d from the thermos you bought,
kicking distractedly at winter's first sparkles...
I want nothing more than to leave this snow-globe scene,
but the possibility of kissing your sidewalk boot-prints
instead of the flakes melting on the apples of your cheeks
scares me more than the thought of my flesh
Greying and wearing away, to add to the migrating
blizzard that's keeping the wary townspeople indoors.
What if I left.
If I skipped town,
filled a quaint farmhouse with laughing babies,
two cats and a businessman.
What if you never come back.
If you lose yourself,
and bury your memories of me
in your professionally-landscaped yard.
Will you keep whispering to them about me between your sheets.
Will I keep hoping that you do.
You know I'll love you f o r e v e r,
but loving and waiting are two different things.
Two different things that you've always managed to make te
Gun MissingIt's the tenth of september;Gun Missing in Short Stories More Like This
I'm sitting in a parking lot.
A white civic crawls past me and I think I recognize the driver.
suddenly it's chilly.
I stretch the sweatshirt out, wrapping his arms around and around me and around
The car has been gone a while.
I try to remember what my toes feel like without wiggling them.
I smoosh my eyeballs into my kneecaps ---> there's a new color there for me.
Maybe if you ground up bricks and bones!
-maybe it's that color-
Sometimes it changes though.
It's one of the spiral staircases from Atlantis.
I wonder how it got all the way up here.
I wonder how it got inside my eyes.
They needed somewhere it would be safe probably.
I'm glad they can trust me.
I think I slept,
but I don't remember falling asleep and I don't remember being asleep.
Also, I don't remember waking up.
I check for the staircase.
It's the color of her old robe today.
The one we threw out when she...
It used to have a dragonfly on the tag.
Roam FreeLove her like a foreign capitolRoam Free in Free Verse More Like This
because she is overbearing and sharply lit.
Admire from afar,
she is known to excite and exhaust.
She will lead you through her festive gardens and palatial estates,
past her grand clock tower and her lively market square.
Handinhand and burgling brief breaths,
you will find yourselves down a shadow-rampant alley.
everything you want.
Lights tempt and deceive.
She should have known you would have to leave.
You should have known she would have to leave.
Let's love like foreign capitols,
separately, desperately and overbearingly
MatchbooksGot a knack for naps, I use my special skill on long vacation boat rides. I can't stand being surrounded by water that I can swim in. Sleeping passes the time while the ocean spray nibbles on my exposed shoulders.Matchbooks in Emotional More Like This
Otherwise, with wide eyes, I get jittery.
Like how our hormonal calves writhe when we're seated straight acrost the table from each other at your favorite mongolian grill. Or in your dining room. Or my cousin's wedding. Actually those tables were circular. I'm sure you remember that day. I've only had my hair done professionally twice. That was the second time.. You sang me every song at their dance- even the ones that were supposed to be by a girl. "It starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose..."
You're not a very good singer. I was embarrassed for you. You wouldn't stop even at my half-hearted begging. Cos you meant every word. And you know what? I have absolutely never felt more beautiful than I did at the end of that night.
Twowho is to tell me i shouldn't miss it--Two in Emotional More Like This
my window faced a playground.
its twisty slide was filled with snow,
and the silence was silenter than i'm used to
but that was alright,
cos there was an old radio
on my nightstand.
the only station that came in was nothing
but older than old country,
and even that was still fuzzy.
the word fuzzy makes me think of peaches and/or caterpillars.
in sixth grade i killed one of our caterpillars
on accident cos it fell off the desk it was crawling on.
i was cryin an cryin, thinkin what that little green babe musta felt
while it was gettin smooshed between my shin bone and the chair.
i was cryin even before the kids were snappin
like beetle claws in the air in front of my face.
i used angry paper towels to scrape the poor babe off
and to wipe my cheeks.
i'm thinkin maybe some of him got on me and then in me,
cos i can still feel his hurt.
at night-time i love to cocoon
the hospital-white sheets
around my shaky limbs.
i think if i hold myself in tight
OneThere are only two emergency room rooms in our hospital. That's a little unnerving, if you ask me. What if there was a massive car crash with lots of seriously injured victims? Where would they put them all?? I'm pretty sure we have got more than two ambulances even, so the whole setup makes no sense to me. Some guy is in the first room, so they put me in the second. If they bring in someone who is badly hurt, I'm sure they can just shove me somewhere else, I feel fine.One in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Dad keeps wandering through the tiny room, as if he is looking for something. Then he sits, rubs my foot for a minute, and stands again. He's not the restless type, I wonder why he is so anxious. It amazes me that he is even managing to wander in a room this size. Mom is squeezing my arm, like she is making sure that she isn't dreaming, only backwards. That and she is crying. I realize that that is a usual thing for mothers to do, but not mine. She has never cared enough to bother with crying. I remember once when I was
Helpful Little Fireflies Sam's hand was on hers, gently guiding it so that she saw what he had been seeing all along in the dark sky. Her back was pressed against the thin blanket they had spread over the grass, and a few random sticks and rocks were pressing into her back, but she couldn't bring herself to notice, or care, as her attention was focused elsewhere. Mainly on Sam's voice.Helpful Little Fireflies in General More Like This
"See these right here?" Sam whispered to her, his breath tickling her hair as his finger pointed toward a line of stars, "Orion's belt, right there". His hand was holding hers and tracing her fingers across the sky.
"I see it." She said, keeping her voice as soft as his. The crickets chirping around them and the occasional firefly made their whole situation very picturesque, but was somewhat ruined by the line of headstones behind them. She sat up and glanced back at them, making sure this night wasn't going to turn into something from a horror movie. Feeling foolish, she looked back at Sam to find him gri
OneFour-year-old Prosper looked wide-eyed around the waiting room, nervous in spite of himself. His father had urged him to go play with the various toys scattered around the floor in the children's section, but he had refused to let go of his father's hand long enough to do so. Despite his father's assurances, Prosper's eyes were tearing up, and when his father tried baiting him into a game with the large lego blocks, he scooted down onto the floor and began halfheartedly putting together an shapeless lump of legos. After a few minutes of this, though, he toddled back to his father and tugged on his shirt. Without pausing, his father reached down and scooped Prosper up, knowing from previous experiences what Prosper had wanted.One in Short Stories More Like This
"Don't be so scared, Pros," his father said, chuckling softly at Prosper's tight clutch on his shirt, "we're just here to pick up Mummy and your new baby sister, there's nothing to cry about."
He reached up and wiped away a couple of tears that had slid down Prosp
Cats vs. DogsProsper is a dog person. This is obvious to anyone who knows him, and probably quite a few people who don't. There's something blatantly obvious about a dog-person's qualities and Prosper has them. He always insists that he he will get a dog eventually, but at the moment he procrastinates too much to actually do it.Cats vs. Dogs in General More Like This
Blaire doesn't procrastinate. She despises doing anything at the last minute with a passion, which is probably why she went out and got her own furry little companion before Prosper had ever really looked into it.
To Prosper's dismay however, the furry little companion in question was not a dog. It was a cat.
Blaire, it turned out, was a cat person.
Prosper generally did not like cats very much, simply because they weren't... friendly enough. Or that was the reason he told others. Although, the small white kitten with black paws that Blaire had brought back to her apartment, with her eyes shining and a wide smile, seemed plenty friendly enough. At least, judging by the fact
Tightrope I decided now that I am a dare-devil, a risk-taker, someone who loves to look a challenge in the eye. There's a large chance that it is because of my pride that I cannot pass up any type of provocation, or it may just be a way for me to inject some excitement into a previously dull life.Tightrope in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I know now that the greatest challenge I ever took on was you. You were dangerous and extreme, throwing sparks off into a black, boring scene, and being with you was like foolishly walking over a tightrope with no past experience. Never knowing how much danger there truly is until, looking down, the world is so many feet below. With you, the adrenaline was always present- the sparks that you so easily threw off became fireworks when we were together.
I understand now why we could never be happy together. A person can never truly trust that they are not going to fall off the tightrope, and in the same way, I could not trust you. You blazed through my life, spout
Poor Deprived People"Keep writing." Prosper told Blaire, in a voice that should have meant he was angry, but was ruined by the grin on his face.Poor Deprived People in Humor More Like This
"My hand hurts!" Blaire exclaimed, blowing her hair out of her face with an irritated huff, "And I've already written down a million of these!"
"Not enough," Prosper said. "If you're going to have any music and movie taste at all, we've got a long way to go."
"For the last time, my music and movie taste is fine." She looked down at the list of movies and bands before her on the table. Apparently, according to Prosper, her knowledge of movies was so poor that action needed to be taken at that very second. She didn't think it was such a terrible thing, but Prosper had insisted that they make a list of all the movies she had to watch. Then the list had expanded to include music, as well.
The whole stupid thing had started when he had found ("caught", as he put it) her listening to a Britney Spears song in her room while reading a book. In her defense,
Baby It's Cold Outside Blaire's questing fingers hovered an inch below the bag of marshmallows she was trying to reach. She was on her tip-toes, one hand holding onto the shelf below the marshmallows and the other stretched out above her. She blew her bangs out of her face irritably and considered how she was going to reach the sweets without involving Prosper, who, she was sure, would tease her endlessly if she asked for his help.Baby It's Cold Outside in General More Like This
Cursing him and his infernal height, she braced one foot on the trash can underneath the shelves and began to pull herself up. Grabbing the marshmallows triumphantly in one hand, she gave a yelp of surprise when two arms twined around her waist, steadying her. Turning around and seeing a grin on Prosper's face, she shot a glare at him, hoping it would keep the teasing at bay.
"What, no thank you?" Prosper said, mock surprise in his voice.
"My hero," She said absentmindedly, throwing him a grin to take away some of the bite from the
82. Can You Hear Me?"What about now?" Liz says in a almost indiscernible whisper, the softness ruined when she begins to giggle soon after. She had never quite understood the expression 'laughter bubbling up', but lately she felt full and happy, and she was laughing before she really knew what she was doing. Rich grins back at her, his softly glowing green eyes moving fondly across her face.82. Can You Hear Me? in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Still yes." He murmurs into her ear, his smile tickling her skin as he places a kiss underneath.
"And now?" Her voice is softer still, barely audible to her own ears.
"Yes." His lips brush up and down her neck almost curiously. "Though it behooves me to tell you, Elizabeth, that in such close proximity to you this is hardly a legitimate experiment, nor will the results be satisfactory."
"Hey, buddy, that's not pillow talk."
"The meaning of that phrase eludes me." He says, his arm shifting around her waist with purpose and pulling her close on the sheets.
"You can't use that excuse every time. You knew what 'friends w
97. Safety First"It's never going to work." Jude argued as they walked towards the lot Al had specified.97. Safety First in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"Pessimist." Charlie accused half-heartedly, "We don't know that it won't work. And that's better than doing nothing."
"I disagree." Jude said mulishly, staring at his ragged sneakers as he walked, nearly knocking into Charlie, who had abruptly come to a halt in from of him. He lifted his head, a protest already formed on his lips, before the sight in front of him cut his words off.
"Wow." Charlie let out an appreciative whistle.
"Understatement." Jude said, staring wide-eyed at the sleek and luxurious vehicle in from of them. "I thought Al said we were getting a
"Well, I'm not complaining," Charlie said, bouncing up to the door and running a hand over the silver and black polish, "I've always wanted to drive a hovercraft."
"Admitting you haven't driven one of these before is not the way to inspire confidence, Charlie."
"And off we go!" Charlie yelled, ignoring him and practically vaulting in
86. Seeing RedJude was frozen for a moment, heart beating a sickly, erratic drum in his chest. Everything was chaos around him; he no longer had the slightest clue as to what he should do. He made the choice that seemed logical, that sounded like Al's voice in his head, and ran for cover, throwing himself behind the hovercraft that they had driven there. He pressed his back against the vehicle, panting harshly, cold sweat sticking to his skin, before quickly peeking out from behind the car.86. Seeing Red in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Susan was already down on the ground, a quickly growing pool of blood coalescing around her. The amount would have shocked him once, as would the lurid, bright color; too real, too warm, he remembers with a pang. Jude looked to his left, quickly picking out Charlie from among the mass of people in time to see an officer drag her down to the ground by her hair, a gun clutched in his hand. And then, quite suddenly, as though someone had reached into his heart and gently flipped a previously unknown switch th
you have a heavy heartAre we still on the two sisters idea?you have a heavy heart in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Okay. What else you got?
You have something, what is it?
I've never written an argument. I've got nothing.
You've had one though. You have you and your experiences and everything that defines you and its okay.
I know. I'm scared.
Does this help? Imagining someone to talk to?
You seem real.
And you're not there anymore. Okay. I can do this. Write for someone who looks down on everything I like. Write for someone who looks down on me.
Shall we go over the rules?
Don't write clichéd phrases.
Do you know what that entails?
No. I don't really like how writing has rules. Grammar I can understand, it helps the reader along. But everything else just kills the enjoyment and fun of writing. I'm too scared to write.
Describe me something.
There's a white Kleenex on the floor, with a wasp underneath it. We squashed it with a shoe earlier, but it was still twitching, so s
this is not my cardiganGod, he is smiling at the waitress with big eyes as she brings him his dinner. i can see the gnarls of his hands from a dozen feet away, his chair pulled close to the wooden table. i watch him reveal his little teeth, presumably polydented dentures. he is wearing a yellow sweater, a cardigan with elbow patches.this is not my cardigan in Biography & Memoir More Like This
the chair across from him is empty and in the same grain pattern as the table with his towering pile of supper. my brother asks if i know why he is alone and i tell him to keep silent. his wife died, he told me, with a smile. the old man turns his eyes to his meal and slowly begins to eat.
God, please forgive me for not sitting with him; forgive me for not telling him i am so sorry and i love him; please forgive me for not crying into his sweater or being enough
epiphany # 244: we will find this man again someday, and show him love still exists at the bottom of our hearts and a teacup.
the sickness of breathing emptinesstoday:the sickness of breathing emptiness in Free Verse More Like This
and my god, there's no way to pretty that up. pain is not beautiful, it is painful. use your common sense. there is no glory in suffering, there is no sparkle to sacrifice. hurt is hurt is hurt. and you can't take it for someone else, no matter how hard you try.
what i hate is that you're leaving. like, a thousand miles away worth of leaving. and don't tell me that distance means nothing to the heart, because it does: enough to make you break me before you kill me. honestly, i wonder which is worse. honestly, i'd probably rather you kill me because i've broken enough times that i don't have much left to break.
what i hate more is that i love you. i have fought harder against it than i've fought against anything else in my life, i fucking swear to god. i didn't even consider that i could love you for months. an
see the cradlei want you, at three in the morning.see the cradle in Free Verse More Like This
i want to borrow your books
and read their words invisible
taking a pen to the margins
to make sure you remember in
fifteen years that page two hundred and
eighty seven made me cry from its
first paragraph to truncated eighth
i am completely guilty
of wanting your lips on my lips
wanting your bones on my bones
a heart beat from my chest
moving into yours
a field of stars stretched
across my bed
& you and i lying beneath
i hope you don't mind.
i'm soaking in sin like the
sun's dying rays
and feeling electric.
for once in my life
i am on fire.
what is meant by playing deadthe house looks like helium. it is faded with cold as its body, thickets of slatted wood painted palely. shutters are closed eyelids, unbearable lightness to the miserly scene before them.what is meant by playing dead in General Fiction More Like This
these streets are cobbled and winter-bleached, colours in hibernation save for three bodies of varying paleness lying slatternly in its centre.
bones compounded, salted twigs in white shades bent and broken; there is no blood, just an overwhelming taste of death.
who's that? a bloodless face murmurs from its position on the axis of the recumbent spine.
think his name's johnny, a nearby body whispers.
it's not, the broken limbs in question croaks.
the wind calls for a hush. feet shuffle in stumbling waves, the way they would at a wake, before the judgemental face of the open casket.
are they all dead? a crisp voice calls.
the bodies on the cold road cringe at the sharpness of the sound. a bird rustles the newspapers just fallen from the basket.
a black boot taps a girl's shattere
we'll make it, worldyou are an amplifier,we'll make it, world in Free Verse More Like This
a seashell in my ear,
a magnifying glass
angled to the angels
so that i might catch fire and
burn my way to beautiful,
the white ash
at the tip of your cigarette
this noise is both too much
and never enough.
i miss the leaves pressed
with tangles of my
book pages, hoping
the poetry would
slip its way into veins,
the leaves' or my own
and still i shudder
at the thought of
butterfly reversing to pupa
i miss your fragility,
the sea's air
beneath your wings,
and feel it in my bones
when my pulse slips
i am still here
when you are sad,
i am sad too and i want to
hand you my heart;
when you are sad,
i am sad too and i want to
breathe it all in
like my lungs are broken
every other minute
of my life;
like i need to feel and feel
and feel and feel and
feel and feel and feel
you make me feel -
when you are sad,
i am still here
and here is
and you can have
whatever you might want,
all you have to do
my mother says i'm angrythe bruises on my knuckles aremy mother says i'm angry in Free Verse More Like This
lilies of the nile, blooming in black and blue
my mother says this is what you
get for being so angry,
this is why no one will get close to you,
it's because you are an angry soul
so i hang my head, hang it up with
clothespins, the kind that hurt when you
clip them on the sagging skin that
swallows the bends in your fingers hard,
so can i just ask you why it turns red
the second you let it go,
can i just ask you some questions and hope
to God you can't answer them,
like what is it with
girls with trees for names
and why do my legs
hurt when i think
and how do you know
when i'm full of shit
and when are you coming
to my house
to sit on my couch
and laugh at my face
and sleep in my bed,
because it's wednesday and i don't want
to write nonsense words on my
calendar and make myself feel like i'm
busy and just let
take you away.
bulimiai partied, i laughed,bulimia in Free Verse More Like This
i ate, drank, was merry.
i hooked up, i kissed, i smiled.
i spat my vomit into the flowers.
i left early and walked down the alleyway.
i vomited into my hands, over my jeans.
i looked at my stomach:
inverted and still too round.
i picked up broken glass from the floor to push into my skin.
i rubbed my hands in wet ashes to mask the smell.
"bulimia," she said.
my stomach rumbled with emptiness and a sickness to silence it.
the butterfly leaves the sutures on my lips,
flutters to my organs, the trunk of a tree.
its cocoon lies on the grass,
caterpillar to pupa,
larva to moth,
the form changes, but
it never ends.
we are all strangers"if i were a stranger, i'd probably kill myself."we are all strangers in General Fiction More Like This
"what the fuck are you on about?"
"if i were a nobody. a ghost. an unknown. like the man who goes to the market everyday to get a brown bag full of his groceries, smiles and says thank you to the cashiers, and wears the same black trenchcoat. i wonder if he's dead..."
"is that where you were?"
"...but everyday, the cashier at that same, damned market rings him up but never sees his face. she never hears him say thank you, she just tells him to have a nice day. and he smiles and says he will, and she should too. but she doesn't fucking know, she doesn't even see him."
"were you at the market, then?"
"his name is william, he's sixty-five years old. he has no wife, and his son is this asshole-broadcaster on channel four, cooing over the news like a fucking mourning dove."
"what does this have to do with being a stranger?"
"william knows nobody. or rather- nobody knows william."
"how do you mean?"
"you know those photographs, the ones with
fourteenwhen you are too far,fourteen in Free Verse More Like This
sadness sifts over me
as the silence grows louder,
the sleep grows heavier,
and you buckle beneath
when my heart has pressed
itself into your chest,
the veins in my hands
and wrists swell
and warmth colours my fingers:
i imagine how it will be when i
am there with you;
when you can sleep
and i can fill your arms;
when we are talking
and pausing for kissing
and your mouth moves slower
and into a state of sleep
and i can trace the shape of your face
when i can let you know
how much i love you without
the redness in my cheeks stopping me
instead of stopping.
when you are here,
i can stop wishing for you
to fall asleep with your body pressed
against mine and waking the
when you are here,
we wont need to want.
nonexistent people"something's wrong."nonexistent people in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"what makes you say that?"
"your shirt is white."
"so, it's just white. there's nothing on it- no dirt, no ink, no blood."
"i guess you're right."
"then what's wrong?"
"i don't remember how to speak."
"you're talking right now."
"yeah. i'm running my mouth but i'm saying nothing. i'm thinking all these things, and can't say them. i'm sitting straight but everything's angled and i think i'm falling when i'm only standing still."
"i think you said that very well."
"then maybe i forgot how to see."
"maybe. i'm missing something. like it's on the tip of my nose but i won't cross my eyes to see it. "
"cross your eyes."
"i don't want my eyes to get stuck."
"look at me."
"what do you see?"
"your eyes are sad. you have a crooked mouth. your hands never touch flatly on your thighs. you look wrong, but beautiful. oh- sorry. i shouldn't say that."
"i don't think you're blind."
"i don't know. maybe i have fo