the vowelasaurusa -the vowelasaurus in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
a massacre of morals,
prefixes are arming our world
with pros and cons, benefit of the doubt
is that death is near; spelled out in numbers
the world is losing the nile river, the panama canal,
the beauty of the grand canyon is locking away the fears of
dictators of love and inventors of hate. they found us behind you.
easy way out.
of nothing, this is
taking the e of of sex
and solving for x and finding s
and using it to spell shit and dividing by us
and equaling you and i am finding out that the letter
e is being taken out of love and we are left with lov and
i am using that e to add to to my double l, with an h because
this is just pure hell.
i credit you
the benefit of
the doubt when i
tell you that cautious
has i o u. i owe you. and
what the hell do i owe you
besides a reminder of when i
bowled with your uvula, a catastrophic
event leading to the loss of the swish alps,
neutrality at its peak of disaster, the ozone layer
is writing an essay on the task of being go
confessionmy writing is justconfession in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the questions that i never
wanted to answer
i'm stillforming infinities from teardrops, calculating mind blowing possibilities from your slurred out words, running fingers through coarse piles of carcasses piled centuries high, mountains filled with emotions, i am creating a whole new hemisphere, a whole new planet, fuck pangaea when i can create my own war stricken, poverty thriving, judgmental hell hole we call planet earth.i'm still in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we're just run on sentencesi am camera eyes, taking snap shots of holy hemorrhages out east behind the ruins of a city full of liars and lovers and red wild flowers plastered under the noon tide sun.we're just run on sentences in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
we, yes we, are all dying and so why water the grass if it is to just wilt in the sun, why eat if we are to rot under mounds of decomposed remains of the fools before us and oh the lovers strewn out five tombstones apart and a hundred centuries of love all mushed together under the ground in healthy patterns of crucifixes and i can feel it. i really can, when i walk down long dirt roads and along narrowing mountain peaks.
dead sparrows line the windowsill on a glistening morning not far from reality and i can count the snails leeched to the ceiling and the dirt around our cuticles in mere particle displays of how we spend our time digging holes a hundred feet deep and laying our pictures of a once happy time to rest.
i've always beensand paper running down your spine behind sycamore trees five hundred miles from where we first made love, scathing insects trickling between your ear drums, blood oozing from tear ducts, placid reminders of fortified nothings and beautiful shells of locus, such as the hummingbird skull earrings i adored you with for your seventeenth birthday.i've always been in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
sanguinethe hay is sticking to my fingers.sanguine in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
"oh god, what have i done?"
i am greeted with silence, a river of red dancing at my boots. i see the pitchfork, stained crimson at its tines, and my stomach convulses.
her dress is torn, animalistic claws shredding the length of its blue skirt, and her legs scraped raw. i see her face, see what i have done to its beauty, and sink to the floor of the barn until the scent of moist earth fills my nose.
"i'm sorry, i'm so, so sorry." my voice sounds strangled and far away. "elisabeth, forgive me. i'm so, so sorry. i will be a better man, i swear, i will be good to you."
my hands stumble to her wet shoulder, up her reddened neck, and rest on the ruins of her face. "oh god, what have i done?"
she is a ghost, and i am a ghost of my self. i am empty as my stomach heaves its malevolent contents into a mound of hay, and i cry as my fingers stumble over the barn phone, leavin
but when is enough enough?can i tell you now how i've dissipated,but when is enough enough? in Free Verse More Like This
dissolved into the fabric's interstices
swallowed like living pride
i weigh less than i ever have,
i am less than i've ever been,
let's watch as i count every single
calorie in every single
morsel to touch my tongue,
let's see how far i've fallen,
let's see how much i hurt.
how hollow i'm painted these days,
dark shadows gracing the lines
of every feeling i beat,
can you see the way i breathe
conflict with every gasp,
the happiness i bend over backwards
for in hopes of bowing to my breast,
the abandoned fears burning under
my skin, the broken stars boiling beneath
the thin-painted husk of reds and blues
do you feel lovely,
for every scar stretched across my skin,
for every number burning through
it's all for you in
the way that it's not for you at all, just
the way you are
not there for me at all.
people poetry.i told her i missed her and she showed up in a flock of birdspeople poetry. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
and feathers and wings the very next day.
she was in my newspaper bundle and tied with a cord and
i knew right there that i would never walk again if she would be
that beautiful for ever, for that moment.
i told her i loved her and she smiled a little,
and i loved the way my name sounded on her lips,
her tongue tripping up every syllable in my name,
my father's name, his father's name, his father's name,
until it sounded like music,
until it sounded like poetry,
until i thought my heart would cry
because it was so beautiful and i couldn't bear
to kiss her
the same way i couldn't bear not to.
can i touch you, she asked,
and of course i said yes.
do you promise you won't think i'm weird, she asked,
and of course i promised.
i'll probably touch you places you don't expect, she said,
and my heart ran away with a white rabbit down a hole before i could catch its toe
so i nodded and put my hand on the back of hers.
tyler durden.im still sore. you were tootyler durden. in Scraps More Like This
beautiful for me. i wondered
how long it would take
before id change that.
the minute hand
moved maybe eleven times; then,
twenty-nine kisses and two
lumps of lye later, i am
tyler durden and your face is
scarred with the print of
let me introduce myself -
i am a nightmare
and i want you ugly like me.
i am a poison dart frog
and i want to swim in your blood.
i am an elephant
with sadder eyes than stormclouds.
i am useless until i am beautiful
and i will die before i love myself.
i already know that you are
gods gift to mankind even if you dont.
here we just tie our hands together
with our fingers acting like string.
the beautifulest of beautifuls.
the thinnest of thins.
the ugliest of uglies.
here we both bear scars beat into
our skulls like we are some
kind of monster. every time you
kiss me, i believe it even more.
i ask you to slap me, and you do.
you tell me to punch your mouth until
you bleed and so we go to the
emergency room. we tell them you
people i could bei named you mila. i wish i hadn't,people i could be in Free Verse More Like This
they always say you get attached
to it when you give it a name.
once you became mila,
you became mine.
we've stuck together through
thick and thin, but you were always
the first to cut me down and
cut me up if it were anything but thin.
'lose thirty more pounds,' you say.
and i tell you i only want another fifteen.
'you're fat and unhappy right now,
you don't know what you want, now do you.'
and of course you were right.
'stop being overweight,' you say.
and i tell you i'm technically underweight.
'have you seen the amount of fat on
that lump of lard you call a body,' you say.
and of course you were right.
i don't know who i'm
apologising to anymore
i don't know if i'm
sorry for what i've done
or sorry for being
the monster i feel beneath
my papered skin
but i do know that
this is me,
girl on your back
and you know she is too much
and also not enough
you don't love me and i see it in your eyes
i am the rain in the gutter
graveyard haunt.ten minutes before, and you are holding my hands in concrete parking structures. cars are melting into gray, obscure oblivion and i can taste your heart on the wind. you are whispering words that sound like blank storybooks, pressing truths into my clenched, desperate fists. you kiss my chest and kiss my fingers and you kiss my lips and you kiss my salty eyelashes. i am shaking and pleading and you are straightening my spine. you are a whisper and you are the wind and you are a face in the backseat window. you are taking my humanity and you are leaving my hunger and you are planting needs in my pores and letting me deal with the oncoming weeds. i am dug into the asphalt of the abandoned structure and my leaves are falling to scatter over the rusting cars. i am alone and i can't taste anything but goodbye. i am alone and my veins are cracking for want of water. i am alone and life is a faded dog-eared memory sinking into tidepools in the back of my mind. i am alone and nothing remains bgraveyard haunt. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
seaside gifts.this is what i would give to you:seaside gifts. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i would give you sea castles during high tide. i would give you an empty beach and a storm rolling in, the sea flagging the danger and the sky rolling in anxiety. the ocean was deepen to sleet gray and i would be waiting in it, the cotton of my dress soaked to my ankles. we could find release in the storm, slipping the silent killers from our bones to wash out with the dregs of the hurricane. the rain would come in with a crack across the sky and we could hold each other through it. our clothes could be sopping wet and flapping in the wind, but we would be rocks. screaming, kissing, unlocking our chests and letting the elements take us.
this is what i would give to you:
i would give you ocean-salted rooms with open french doors and billowing curtains. i would give you an abandoned home and phones off the hook. i would give you peace and i would hold you while you slept. you would be peaceful in your slumber and i would not say a word. i would press my
bleeding miles, oceans thick_ci speak all these words in one breath. my mind drips- skin falls to pieces and lands in a pair of hands. the rain washes it away and it's gone, but it flickers like lightbulbs. flickers on and off in my stomach, in my head, in my heart. it's a thunderstorm, it's bleeding into waves. i walked down the hallway and kept my hands in my pockets the whole time. i dream inside my dreams. i have dreams in your bedroom that the forests cry. you kiss me until i cry. liquid sadness down my thighs. it's like breathing in space when you're not here.bleeding miles, oceans thick_c in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
(my heart is a drum and my hands cannot keep the beat. my heart is a bird that my bones cannot cage. you are here and you are not. you are breathing the curve of my throat and i am hungry. i walk the halls alone, i press palms to the walls and watch them fall to the ground. i can feel your heat and i am afraid. i am a coal in diamond's cloth; i am a mockingbird with the tongue of a beggar. you press love into my flesh and i recoil in fear. love is a
aurora's melody.sweet dawn-breath washes acrossaurora's melody. in Free Verse More Like This
lily-lips, sweeps over curved necks
and beckons forth murmured hellos
over white-washed cotton linens
curtains flutter through sunshine's
pale fingers, breezes trailing down
exposed spines, wrapping gently
around tender newborn laughter
tangled and loose curls frame slack
faces, twisted sheets roping around
freckled limbs, hearts flowing slowly in
dreamy, languid waves in ocean-chests
mouths sink together for sunrise's
prayer, moving through the hallelujah
with breathless care, cheeks coming to
rest next to one another with a sigh
the world breathes deep, the world
exhales, constellations shift to welcome
two new lights in their midst, whispering
hello as they cradle love in starry palms
in these words, i will live.this world spins fast, and still, i wonder at how i spin faster.in these words, i will live. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
i wonder at how i dredge words up recycled from my lungs and unravel them into the air without care for the final product. i wonder at my love for the act of spinning, for the exhilarating, light-headed feeling i get when exposing every hidden flaw and every not-so-secret desire. you see, i am constantly coughing up my heartache and i have to wonder at the addicted high; the need to tell every sting and every warmth. the need to break open my ribcage and spill out these emotions onto canvas and paper, smearing the colors with dirtied fingertips before moving on.
yet, i do not come and look back at what i have spun; i do not have the time or inclination to come and ponder the mess and the best way at which to fix it. i simply move on. a wildfire with no care for the burnt hillsides in my wake. call me heartless, but i saw the wonder in the young boy's eyes when he saw the flames. call me heartless, but in the heart of my c
silent screams.taste the venom between the smackingsilent screams. in Free Verse More Like This
of twin lips as they break their joint spine
and revel in the sound of death drilling
behind your eyelids until alone is a sound
you think you might want to rest in.
close your heart and button up the shutters
and board up the doors until the wind howls
and the chain is beating against the wood
with a hollow sound like a fist knocking,
but you know better, because no one has
knocked on this door since thirteen hundred
days ago when time was starting and you
had fresh pain[t] and a bright smile.
music hurts in the way of your skin peeling
and love is too bright to even look at and
the voice you want to wrap up to swallow
your breath is strangely missing and no
matter how hard you try, this absence
is just the lack of anything and you can't
drown in nothing no matter how
damn much you want to.
your back is in knots and your head is in
pretzels and you're screaming without making
a sound and crying without dropping a tear
and your flesh is melting all
consider this just one more.i need you to stop needing me.consider this just one more. in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
you don't know, but you're living a lie. you're closing your eyes and pretending i'm something i'm not. you're pretending i'm lovely and stable and precious. you're pretending i'm returning this kiss.
you're breathing down my neck and twisting my hair between your fingers, saying we could be something beautiful if i would just slow down. you're swearing we could be a sundust and milky way love story if i would just stop running away all the time.
you're calling me baby, you're calling me darling, you're trying to hold my hand and ignoring the fact that i'm shaking with anxiety. your salty lips keep misfiring and landing on my jaw, your greedy fingers keep tearing my coattails apart.
can't you see? i'm a mistake that you're trying to rearrange into something lyrical, a disaster that you're trying to pretend is miraculous. when really i'm anything but.
in reality i'm knocking down vases and ripping the mona lisa in half, i'm tripping down the stairs and cra
i sometimes think.my face is a little like myi sometimes think. in Free Verse More Like This
heart, beautiful pieces that
add up to an ugly whole
dear t, love m_cDear M, I used to wonder if the collision of our skin would be the ignition of rapidfire passions, the birth of brilliant starlight in the cold of loneliness, of suffocating space. I used to imagine that the heat of your breath would spill across my tongue, and reignite the cold ashes in my lungs. I used to hope that the sway of my skeleton and the clacking of my bones could be a rhythm you would stay around and dance to. I used to dream of us on moonlit beaches, sleeping on the waves and swimming through the sand. I used to do a lot of things, but your shiver-up-my-spine smile tends to drag my thoughts out to quieter seas.dear t, love m_c in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Dear T, I used to imagine my bones were fractured and chipped in all the wrong ways. I used to think my heart was a poison my body kept rejecting, leaving me on my hands and knees spitting up old relationships, lies and heartache all over my carpet late at night. I used to look at the sun and wish myself blind, stare at the ocean and wish myself ten thousand le
tide pools of disbelief.broken words splintertide pools of disbelief. in Free Verse More Like This
beneath my feet
and i'm perched
on the faded edge
of what beauty
looked like before you
went and rearranged it.
from here, i can see
the distant salted shore
where you are cradling
the rest of my life amongst
the rest of the vowels
missing from my disjointed,
leaning against the vacant
air your bones should be filling,
i'm suddenly aware i'm nothing
but empty palms and scattered
sheets of music and if i was to cry
would you close your eyes to pretend
the collapse of my lungs is a poem?
would you write me a promise,
carve me a secret and fold them
in broken glass bottles
before hoisting the corpses
out to sea?
would you pull emaciated
fears from cobwebbed corners,
feed them into the shells of paper
airplanes before trusting
them to the airwaves and me?
if yes, then press reality
into my hollow cells
until life is a synonym
for you, until death
is a forgotten moment
when your lips peeled
goodbyes away from mine.
if yes, kiss me through
too fucking beautifulnote: this is backwards, and for a reason.too fucking beautiful in Short Stories More Like This
I didnt bury her; I couldnt.
She was too beautiful; just too fucking beautiful.
Even when she lay there with her flesh in puzzles and the skin on her face rotting to expose her cheekbones and the empty spaces underneath them, she was like a doll; a beautiful, disgusting doll. I still call her love, but she doesnt answer.
She screams, and I run the silver blade over her stomach again. I dont press hard enough to cut, but I press hard enough to make her silent. I turn back to her feet, and push the end of the knife under another nail. Its gorgeous; the way the blood trickles when I slowly push the knife in, and the pours when I take it out; it reminds me of rivers and of the tears that trickle down her face.
She closes her eyes, when I tell her Ill kill her. I think maybe shes imagining that shes picking white roses from her garden again. The way she je
two weeksmadeline wants to paint a picture on a canvas.two weeks in Short Stories More Like This
she wants to build a tree house and wants her netball team to win the final.
meet someone new every day. she wants to realise pink's an ugly colour and throw out all of her clothes.
she wants to make her first phone call to a boy and hold his hand and go to his house. she wants to get butterflies and wants to share a hot chocolate with him. she wants to have her first kiss.
she wants to listen to music until its all she can hear. she wants to fail tests and say fuck studying, she wants to get a detention and wants to tell her parents that she handed in the excursion money, but keep it for herself.
madeline wants to get high and get a piercing and tell everyone she's fighting the power. she wants to try being vegetarian for a week. she wants to skip school and go to parties. she wants to stumble home in the early morning.
she wants to detox and spend all sunday sleeping. she wants to apologise to her parents and try so very hard to
coughing coloursi used to think alexis was beautiful in every way, back when we went to school. now though, i tell myself that he's beautiful in an artistic sort of way. the sort of artistic that makes you picture everything as a black-and-white photo and the kind of artistic that sparks words somewhere inside you. he calls himself a movie-maker now, but his friends call him alex. i like to call him a story.coughing colours in Short Stories More Like This
when we were maybe fifteen, alexis told me he wanted to go to the beach. it was cold, dark and raining outside, but i agreed anyway. i walked through the late night light and met him at his front gate. we held hands, shaking and biting our lips. we weren't talking but i don't think we had to. we sat on the beach and i counted the seconds in between the flashes of light from across the bay. he had his arm around my waist and i can't remember what we said, but i remember that we were happy. cold, wet and shaking but in love and happy.
when we went to school he used to tell me about how he had ev
goodnight, baby boy`goodnight, baby boy in Short Stories More Like This
when you lay in bed tonight and decide, with tears in your eyes that you're better off without me, just know that i was laying, trying to remember that breathing does help the numb ache that keeps me awake through the night.
just know that i feel hollow and sick without knowing i can run to you.
and when i close my eyes, all i will be able to see is you. and when you curl into a ball and hug your knees, to try and make yourself feel safe, just know that i was alone, trying to steady my breathing, longing to be able to lay beside you.
and it'll all be okay, in the end;
that's what i used to tell myself.
it will all be okay
in the end.
night butterflyi.night butterfly in Other More Like This
there are these girls in her nightmares;
they have cotton candy lips and electric eyes,
and she's falling from their fragile fingers
with nails painted in shades of spilt blood and
she watches the setting sun from her bedroom window
she has nowhere to go now; the night has come
it is raining when her father slaps her; tells her
'you're a fucking disgrace'
her cheeks are red and her bare feet bleeding,
but its dark and you can't see them;
colours have faded
she knocks on her door in the morning,
and her brother answers; lets her in
they don't exchange words
she curls up in her bed with her head under the blanket
and tries to fall back into her dreams;
where the boys have silk skin and glass eyes
but their skin always rips and their eyes always
standing on the corner at midday; her brown hair
frames her face and her blue eyes glow
her cheeks are red not with abuse but with beauty
her legs are long and reflect the midday sunlight
she is a butte
sad french films.'take me to a sunsoaked horizon'sad french films. in Short Stories More Like This
'wake up to yourself. life isn't a fucking love story'
but oh how she wished it was. if only his smile reminded her of the way the sun seemed to shine just that little bit brighter on a winter's day, or of watching the sun set in summer. if only she could walk around with a handful and a pocketful and a heartfull of stories. but she can never see his reflection in the midnight sky and he never tells her she's beautiful.
he has dark circles under his eyes and when things go wrong he sits alone in small parks drinking until he passes out. at first, she thought it was beautifully sad, but when you're being rushed to hospital to have your stomach pumped, it's not as beautiful any more. when you're coughing and spluttering in the gutter with vomit in your hair and no one around to help its not so poetic.
sometimes she sits down to write about how she feels but nothing comes. all she can see is him with white noise spilling from his mouth and his angry
recoverythe most beautiful girl i've ever met - her name was ivy.recovery in Short Stories More Like This
she used to have this beautiful blonde hair, that would shine in the sun and glow under the moon. she had a passion deep inside of her, a raging fire that looked as thought it would burn until the end of time.
we met in the summer of 2006, ivy and i. it was almost midday, and the sun was heavy on our shoulders. we sat together on dry grass and told each other about how all we wanted from life was love. we lay on our backs, our hands behind our heads, and stared at the wide blue expanse above us. back then, we both felt like we had the whole world ahead of us.
we felt like we were going somewhere.
she would tell me about how if she did one thing with her life, she just wanted to change someone's life. together we'd paint new realities in the sky, made from clouds and pure imaginations, and i would tell her that we'd live together one day, in a house along the beach. we'd lay on the sand every day, watching the sea roll
at least we'll have storiesi woke up alone in the new year, in a bathtub full of cold, grey water.at least we'll have stories in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
there was a glass half full of whiskey and a photo of you next to me on the ground. my lips tasted like they were bleeding and my eyes were heavy and sore.
dark hair; damp and dirty clung like a leech to my pale skin, and only when i moved to pull it away did i notice how numbingly cold it was in the water.
i thought of how i dreamt that tonight i'd fall asleep in your arms as you sung beatles songs to me. i'd lay there, happy, thinking about how mysterious and dangerous and perfect you are and about how our bloodshot eyes matched each other perfectly. but you're really just out to watch me fall, and me, i'm a drunken sparrow on barbed wire.
i pulled my heavy body out of the water slowly, cringing at the sudden influx of loud noise as the water ran over and off my body, falling back into the small bathtub. i looked at my ugly face in the mirror as i wrapped an already wet towel around my shaking body, and told myse
when spring comes - one.his bedroom is dimly lit, with a musty smell that reminds me of my grandparents old house. the curtains are dark and thick; allowing only small, fragmented beams of light through the dust-coated window. he has mattresses on his floor, slathered in thick, patterned blankets and old pillows. in the corner he has an old stereo system, with two large speakers sitting on top of it. from it plays a quiet, scratchy 1920s band - a jaunty and jazzy tune that scares away the silence that usually hangs gloomily over his bedroom.when spring comes - one. in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
the paint on the right hand wall was cracked and peeling in places but for the most it was covered with old photos that stretched from the floor to the roof. some of them made me smile as i ran my eyes over them, still trying to remain conscious of his movements behind me. i turned to face him and saw that hanging on either side of the windows were large, cracked mirrors in dark wood frames. i told him it was probably dangerous to have them there, and he smiled and told m