HipstersCool hand motherfuckers with cigarettes coming out their hands. Blowing smoke between behind-the-back comments that shed their own insecurities. Ironic T-Shirts and skin tight jeans that make their face scowl in preconceived notions. Stare as I walk by. Shit talk. Shit talk. They don't know who they are, so they criticize who I am. Those snakebite piercing must have poisoned them with disdain. Those ear gauges made it so they can't hear reason.Hipsters in Free Verse More Like This
A Ritea blade of grass cuts my ribs blood coming all out like juice boiling in the hot summer humidity. real money spent on real shit to fill your real home that becomes a real coffin for your real death. the lawn mower slicing through the hair of my mother unforgiving. fists of apes pounding tree trunks shaking the homes of feeding birds. the harrowing tale of how my bed sheets are getting staler and how loneliness only lurks around the desperate. a gag ball stuck in a geyser will eventually be spit out and hurdle to the earth like a falling astroid. the dead plastic that fills the house of hoarder starts to become play things for ferrel cats.A Rite in Free Verse More Like This
sound systems pump beethoven symphonies as high art swims through the streets of the poverty-stricken.
gun shots hit like snare drums and crying mothers and fathers howl like cellos and double basses.
if you have to smoke cigarettes you can stand outside and watch it all unfold
treetops spin with a dastardly wind that might just be coming from the bel
Spreading OutThere are plenty of ways to lose yourself. A palette of latex colors spit across the city block. It is all a part of that numb-mouth candy and everything is starting to register in a less linear way. Dead bugs scattered across the dashboard like a wasteland of carcasses. Oh, the humanity! All my friends wear the same old t-shirts they had in high school, like tattered flags harkening back to a simpler time. I swallow the tasteless paper and start my old Camry that will still shake if you accelerate too fast.Spreading Out in Free Verse More Like This
Nate: She's pregnant?
Me: Yeah man, you know how she was sleeping with Alex? Well apparently it may not even be his kid.
Joe: Why is this earth shattering to you, Nate?
Nate: Because I'm pretty sure I was her first. I mean I feel kind of responsible.
Joe: You think you and your 10th grade libido just turned her from a nice church-going girl into an adulterous sex-demon?
Nate: I mean, what if I never dated her and maybe she would have been celibate or she would have be
GagSuck it up,Gag in Free Verse More Like This
act like it doesn't get to you,
give fake names and
don't leave a trace.
Heaven is falling fast.
The fault lines are
getting further apart.
Hell will swallow me.
The bird pecked my
dangling from the stalks,
it told me about the
mathematics of everything.
A plastic bag caught
on a tree branch,
the wind shakes it free.
Stained glass panes,
you can only get so
where you breath
in sulfur. The smell
makes you gag.
It makes you gag.
It makes you gag.
HintingYou couldn't stop laughingHinting in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
laying in summer weeds
with the moon pinned to the sky
We talk now and then
but the words we say
are stale and severe
But now I know why
we keep calling each other
in drunken haze
The heaven that we held
has all but faded away
Your southern accent
was all but charming
You drove boys away
with your slipping tongue
I think I am glad I stayed
We ran with our Commonwealth pride
drinking moonshine out of dirty mason jars
driving through our shifting perception
sometimes I wished we crashed and died then
I assume you are alright
I know I'm not
KeyboardLoose lipsKeyboard in Free Verse More Like This
may sink ships
but Badu's beats
my dad is gone
so I'm with my mother
and make-up powder
the sky starred
with the passing day
Random stanzas put in a non-sensical order. I'm just trying to make art, man. If I was a woman my name would be Stella and I would make everyone love me. Ejaculating in a dirty sock because I'm not brave enough to introduce myself. The clouds are moving east and my bones are rising. There are spirits all around us moving to inaudible chants. Total freedom is easier said than done.
Her coffee mug left a ring on the wooden table. The waiter rushed by and picked up our plates. He had Buddy Holly glasses and a long nose.
The cannons were fired and war was declared. Now I am standing here with a gun in my hands and fear in my eyes.
It ends here.
PotSlick shit soothes,Pot in Free Verse More Like This
soft shin smooth,
you have those knobby knees
that knock awkward.
Your curly hair falls,
your bare back against the wall,
we try to kiss
but we can't stop laughing.
Those Little Mermaid sheets
tucked in the corners, neat,
fly off the bed fast.
You hit your head on the bedpost.
16 and wild-eyed,
living fast to die,
who would know things
change so fast?
It has been two years since I have seen you. Two years since we kissed, with pot smoke seeping out the side of our mouths. You called me a week ago saying that we should "chill" sometime and that you had missed me. I know you didn't, you were just looking for an excuse to be apart of something that was once beautiful. So we hung out and for a second it was just like old times. Smoke filled my car and we laughed at all the shit playing on the radio. But then that moment was gone, the photo still ripped savage by the calloused hands of time. I guess until we meet again, I will read my Camus and you will listen to your Su
No ClueHere I am, saying those big words that hide who I really am. Spent money spinning down a shark tank. Thanks Mom, you gave me such a comfortable childhood so I could have the time to kill God. The weight of the world breaking down my precious world.No Clue in Free Verse More Like This
So sick of those fucking Danes
Blood stained teeth
It is all a blur
Red hair spilling down your back,
running over your shoulders
like boulders lodged in a creek bed.
I am 4 years your elder
and I don't want to be a Humbert Humbert.
I fucking hate poetry. Words shoved together, elbow-to-elbow. Fuck this shit.
Killpeopleburnshitfuckschool"Kill people, burn shit, fuck school."Killpeopleburnshitfuckschool in Free Verse More Like This
Banging through my headphones
as I walk down Southland Drive.
Rain paints the road cold as
cars move like metal contraptions,
treading heavy through bleak puddles.
I hate the only thing I know is real:
I see you calling me but I don't pick up. I called you a cunt yesterday and I don't want to have to go through the talking and emotions that come with honesty. I close my eyes and I don't remember what your face looks like. That is a good thing, I think.
Self-ImmolationClouds stilted tall in the sky. Like clowns with pie on their face. Lick their lips. Movie screen junkies in a half way home, shooting movies in our bloodstream. Choking on bread that fills your mouth to the inside of your cheek. God died after he shot himself in the throat. Airplanes shooting the sky like darting flies over a mossy creek. I am the best to live because nothing exists and everything dies resurrects in over-traced circles.Self-Immolation in Free Verse More Like This
Two syllables a line on a dirty notebook page. What is the point of self-immolation if the smoke disappears in the sky?
Girls Just Wanna Have FunHe wasn't my type in any way but he's everything I wanted to experience. Just once.Girls Just Wanna Have Fun in Free Verse More Like This
Is that asking too much?
He wasn't permanent and that's exactly what I was looking for.
Back against the wall and gripped by gentle hands in a stone stance that refused to give an inch. Escape, I can hear the laughter in rattling the back of his mind.
I stare into eyes so dark I couldn't tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins. But they were everything but soulless. His smile playful and daring.
I smiled wider. "I can get out." I whispered, taunting him as I lightly slid my teeth across the side of his neck.
He pushed me harder against the wall. "Cute."
Then I slipped through his arms.
Fingertips with Scalpel PrecisionRustic eyes flaked off in golden blindness searching for a friendly face.Fingertips with Scalpel Precision in Free Verse More Like This
But I want to leave, go somewhere else and start off with a clean slate.
A place where I'm just another face with only a name.
A harmless face that will melt away in the background.
In the shadows away from where the light can bring out every line of my disgrace.
Like a contorted snake
Dislocating its jaw
A terrorizing sight that still
Can't finish all its plate
Series of numbers run across my eyes naming every single day I screwed up.
Looking back on those times I can't see what they mean.
(Stupid girl you know what you've seen.)
When the smile breaks, its the emotion that's been hidden the longest that seeps through the cracks.
(If you were made to make me smile,
I was made to burn your dry wood denial.)
It happened, the sharp slap in the face of nothing you can do.
Just sit there and take it.
Its The Mindless That DevoursHolding onto your deteriorating past denies it the chance to decay and bloom from the remnants that are leftover. You can keep the withered parts in your grasp, a friendly reminder, until the ruins engrave themselves in your skin.Its The Mindless That Devours in Free Verse More Like This
But if you let it go it can grow because everything that happens is just a seed. You can let it turns into weeds and suck the nutrients until it has hollowed out your brain to leave you mindless and easily led.
Or you can let it grow into a beautiful tree.
OxymorographyYou and me could write an oxymorographyOxymorography in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
You look so cute telling me how sweet we could be
You and me together on different poles of the world
You promise me that there's no other girl
I'm the vast desert and you're the oasis reviving me
You're the safe harbor opening up land to sea
You're the sun offering rays to brighten up my days
I'm the clouds bringing shade so you can take a break
This is the beginning of a world you and me can write
Even though they are just words hold them tight
For now they are all that I have to send
I'll try my hardest to make sure this has happy end.
This is my only goal I have to attain
I hope you'll promise me you'll do the same
You and me could write an oxymorography
And You look so cute telling me how we could be
You and me together on different poles of the world
Just promise me I'm your only girl.
Stars Can Say Fuck You, TooLungs cough up dust and the blood hardens into rust.Stars Can Say Fuck You, Too in Free Verse More Like This
Is it possible for this heart to beat? Shriveled lungs can't even extend for breath.
(Do cells really need oxygen anymore?)
And somehow I'm the one left to survive, so don't be surprised when rough hands lead me home.
Did you really think soft hands could have lived through this world alone?
(With the sincerity of a cheese grater, would you accept my apology?)
I know you'll accept it with an Iodine smile and a wounded tongue.
Or was it pride ?
Leaving me here to wonder if I should sink to the bottom with you?
(Oh, how I love to get even.)
Usually meaning the end of my morality but I've sacrificed it for less.
If I make it out of this I'll be bloody as hell, at least I took you with me.
Couldn't we act like this never happened? I told you from the start that I wouldn't get hurt
But you didn't believe that you and me ende
Don't Let Orange Flowers BloomAn empire fell and it sat in smoldering ashes.Don't Let Orange Flowers Bloom in Free Verse More Like This
All it needed was something to burn.
It set fire.
Fields of orange flowers desperately try to
Lap up water.
But it evaporates before their forked tongues
Can even taste relief.
Streams of steam
Into smoky skies.
Gapping holes breathe gusts of fresh air,
But resin caked lungs can't tell the difference.
Puppet Master MentalityNicotine flavored kisses produced stomach bile remarks.Puppet Master Mentality in Free Verse More Like This
(love poured from his mouth,
I choked down vomit in mine.)
I shutter in his arms,
He smiles at my passion.
I smile he believes
What he wants, I've never been known to correct people.
(Everything has its purpose,
Let me wander without direction.)
Its safer than where
I am suppose to arrive
Honey, you're not the only actor in town
Wondering where all this confidence came from.
Little puppet master
Reminded that she
(Should have cut them
while I had the chance.)
Silly Little MonsterWho would believe that she created this monster knockingSilly Little Monster in Free Verse More Like This
on the hollow part of her chest.
(Shallow sound, shrug it off.)
"Is anybody home? Guess not."
Silly lil monster forgot he wasn't home.
He jumped from corpse to corpse
Not one was revived,
(Preserved in a state)
Neither dead or alive.
Infested with death he could only pump decay.
She was alive
But reminded by the
Hollow sound that
Half her body is in the grave.
Ripper HittersWhen this is all over and the worldRipper Hitters in Free Verse More Like This
Crashes down on me
And I burst into flames.
Would you still call me lame?
If I was apart of the dark side
Would you join me if I saved the
Best cookie for you?
I'll even throw in a bowl or two.
I'd become the grim reaper
And take ripper hits with you
Out of a bong made of bones
To expand out minds beyond the capacity of drones.
Oceanic LunacyEmptying glass stares while tasting phobic nostalgia with a forked tongue.Oceanic Lunacy in Free Verse More Like This
There's always two tastes to every memory,
But don't swallow it down, it'll eat you alive; besides is there much nutrients
In driftwood bones and salt water lies?
(Drinking too much can cause mollusks to grow over your eyes)
With bones like honeycomb why would you need to swim when you can float wave to wave.
Being pulled by ropes of seaweed, at the mercy of the tide.
(Is it hard to grasp anchors of kelp?)
Eyes of chaotic torrents have wrecked ships before;
Look laughingly at my boat made of salted driftwood.
Words drop from your mouth like smoothed stones sanded by the rolling waves.
They bade me to go deeper with a hint of an undertow smile and teeth of colorful coral.
can I predict how the ocean will snag you?
Keeping busyA cup of water tremblesKeeping busy in Free Verse More Like This
on my desk.
Even though I am thirsty
I am afraid to drink it.
Dust has collected,
made strange patterns
on the water.
I am the only one
who lives here,
so it is my dust.
What about myself
am I so afraid of?
shotssmall fiery worldsshots in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
fluid and momentary
poured out, filled again
So longabove your portrait,So long in Free Verse More Like This
a million years ago
in green pencil.
my narrow winter,
my aching house.
I say forever
as we pass between cities,
a way of naming good things,
of indicating your gestures
have so much to say.
forever, a word
You are the farthest city,
the longest shore.
I am your traveler,
a million years ago.
then your name
LostThere is so little I remember.Lost in Free Verse More Like This
The layout of the city
was burned into my mind
long before it was bombed,
but no reference--
not even the river--is left
and I realize that being lost,
as much as it means one thing being gone,
also means something else
something more name
more what I was
than what I might have been,
emptied of light and water,
only from afar
has gone cold.
a horizon wild with birdsi.a horizon wild with birds in Free Verse More Like This
the sun strikes the tiles,
thunders and dapples
the cherry trees.
a figure draws light.
so much as spirals,
not so much shape
morning and its
birds ring in your ears,
as if light fell upon
rain newly ended.
touch is insufficiency
parting the air
filling with space
the names for places
as one place
rushing thru another
is to enter the limits
i am a sound.
what carries me
i also carry.
where dust has
this spectacular harvest.
we climb a rise
at the edge
of the desert.
the distant mountains
begin to resemble
we laugh in our bones.
of empty hilltop
we watch its grasses dance
in the air
where our lives
actionsyou touch your fingers to my faceactions in Free Verse More Like This
as if saying,
actions are a way of remembering.
a way of wanting the simple light to fill the simple spaces.
air glowing with things made.
the city fills
and no matter what i do
i can never remember the look
on the face of its prophets.
their eyes subtract versions. erase the edges of cells.
everything comes down to some final, single thing.
to lift the rains and notice the burnt land,
their eyes say.
the secret lights people have are what everything covers.
to watch them blur, to watch them disappear--
to weep is to press to surfaces.
you touch your hand to my face.
my nails grow, make sounds on all the cups i touch.
what i am is real. i fill with actions.
such pitiful flowers.
such musical portions.
your hand on my face is your way of saying,
actions are a way of remembering.
i close my eyes to show you,
there is so little i want.
i close my eyes. a way of saying, there is so much in the circles
of my gestures. no farces, just a laying down of l
goes by Universethe little black straygoes by Universe in Free Verse More Like This
with white flecks
wears a tag on its collar
hallucinations (1)my hallucinationshallucinations (1) in Free Verse More Like This
are jumbo my hallucinations are
float in a dish of water
like a beheaded daisy my hallucinations
give me deserted shapes dust-covered bouquets
that could be anyone's.
my hallucinations are siberian
as tricky as dreams as purple as continents
god bless my hallucinations
they give me feeling-shaped boxes
to crawl into my hallucinations are jumbo
a feline bursts into flame
the room turns to sand
i wipe lake-water from my arms
in an emptiness
that i have felt
and never seen.
the fighterhe makes a fistthe fighter in Free Verse More Like This
rubs his nose
with a knuckle
sees me watching
how it endssomewhere in my mindhow it ends in Free Verse More Like This
a little girl is on a swing, saying
i can't wait, but i will.
who is she?
and somewhere else,
a man gets off a train alone
just as the rain stops
and the skyscrapers pull their wet shadows
off each other.
i sigh. it turns into a yawn.
it turns into a sadness.
this is a poem--
this never happens.
or rather, it's something that only seems to happen.
so don't worry.
it's practically harmless.
it should probably end:
nothing is certain.
but it won't. it will end:
"forget it," i say.
i have a crystal ball
of flashing synapses
in my head
and over and over,
this is all it shows.
maybe i should have begun this by saying
nothing can enter the source.
maybe it would have changed things?
too late, too late.
i sigh. how is it that everything
is so often defined as not everything,
how is it that destiny is not just another word
is there no going back?
i should have started this by saying
a crane like the na
a best friend's truth1. take three deep breaths after you hang up the phone.a best friend's truth in Free Verse More Like This
only three – you don’t want to give the grief any time
to set in. comb through your entire iTunes library and
delete anything with the smallest trace of him. if you’re
questioning a song, delete it. you don’t want to give
yourself any room for tears.
2. let out the tears.
3. fold his sweatshirt and pull the letters he wrote you out
from under your bed. gather the CDs, the 2-dollar bill,
the baby pictures and lucky lighter. place it all gently in a
box and tape it shut. try not to think of this as a metaphor
for sealing away your love. goodbye is never poetic.
don’t try to make it such.
4. curl your knees to your chest and contemplate numbing yourself.
recall the last four times you did and decide against it. cyclicality
has never been your cup of tea. pretend to be stronger than you are.
5. do not, under any circumstances, think of the first time
he held your hand. do not think of your first kiss or t
lost but never foundseptember/october/november/december passedlost but never found in Free Verse More Like This
and not once did i utter your name to my father.
never did i breathe a single syllable about our injustices.
the world never knew how these 2 raging skyscrapers came to be.
through the months of false beginnings,
i spiritualized 4 a.m. walks to abandoned amusement parks.
thought God was somewhere in the rusted roller coaster tracks
speaking in clicks and gusts of wind.
that's what happens when human bones
search for misplaced forgiveness.
we garnered our sincerest apologies
when we swapped wristwatches.
we lost all sense of boundary
when you became an owl
and i blended into the darkness.
we were monumental mounds of metal;
a testament to the past year we spent looking
at the same stars through different windows.
our structure could not take it much longer; a collapse was inevitable.
this time, we did not shield each other from the debris.
self-medicationnow, the ghost of what we once were haunts meself-medication in Free Verse More Like This
when i skip the creeky 2nd-to-last step & when i
smile at homeless strangers. no one is really a
stranger, though, because our goals are common
and our cavities look the same on the outside.
i watched you fall in love with her beneath the south
stairwell and it hurt me, just like it would hurt any
insecurity-ridden girl, but it's alright because i'll take
the parts of me you didn't want and make art. the
parts of me that my brother touched, the pieces that
daddy forgot to pick up when he beat me.
my fallen-eyelash wishes will no longer be wasted
on you, dear boy, but you'll always be a part of me.
whether i like it or not, the number of times you held
my hand will never leave my memory and the taste
of your rough skin won't escape my tongue too soon.
i'll mend my broken bones together & drown myself
in alcohol; if there are any virtues of mine that i've
forgotten, i'll mold them into the woman i hope to be.
bone-deepyour scapula, more commonly known as thebone-deep in Free Verse More Like This
shoulder blade, carries the weight of my
words better than my grandfather carried
his welding tools in 1971
up & down the stairs
day after day
up & down.
your rib cage holds the puff of gusto that allows
you to whisper those tender words in my ear.
the sheets cover me all the way to my neck
because there was a slight breeze last night.
[you & i both have happy
jobs and can't afford new windows]
your radius is the first thing i think of when
life's tides are too high. i grip your arm & feel
blessed that i have you and you have me, because
things wouldn't be the same otherwise.
your bones are sharp enough to leave scars like
the ones both of our wrists own, but thoughts
like that are hushed when love burns to the core.
the man in the blue jogging suitand every 3.7 seconds a swear slips out of thatthe man in the blue jogging suit in Free Verse More Like This
man's mouth and it hurts, it honestly hurts me
to call him a man because swearing to get your
motherfucking point across doesn't make you a man,
it makes you a low-life idiot and that's exactly what
that fucking man is. oops, there i go hurting myself
again, why can't i stop oh god why can't i stop?
the man in the blue jogging suit
gave up on his dreams and stopped doing
cocaine and drinking alcohol a long,
long time ago. he gave up the cocaine
because oh i don't know, maybe drugs & hall-
ions and broken cries weren't what the
man in the blue jogging suit hand in mind
for himself. as for the alcohol, well i really
don't know about that one because i've always
liked the sweet, stinging smell and the sharp
taste the liquid has when it burns its way
down my throat. and don't lie now sweety, shhh
don't lie, because i know you love the sting of
the alcohol and the smell of the vomit and i know
you love the man in the blue jogging sui
sweet happinesscookies&creamsweet happiness in Free Verse More Like This
was my very favorite
wonderful, it was.
down my arm,
past my wrinkly elbow,
sticking to my soft, puffy skin.
& the man who spent his summers
in a pinkandwhite truck,
selling happiness on a cone to little children,
seems old and bitter now.
it's a shame,
a shame that he grew up
and i grew up
and things changed
and now i realize
that ice cream has too much
sugar sugar sugar.
the jingle that repeats itself
blaring from that bitter man's
ice cream truck never fails to hit
me with a wave of nostalgia
and taunt me,
the first time i hear it
every ice-cream season.
liesshe was a plump, overweight woman. her short choppylies in Free Verse More Like This
hair cut through her head and you instantly hated
every inch of her. her fat rolls bulged out of the
bright red shirt she was wearing.
red for anger
red for hate
red for lies lies lies.
she had eyes of dead grey. they glistened
and blinked seldomly and darted around the
area of your right wrist. the shine in them
made you believe-for just one second-that she
knew pain and felt your feelings a long time ago.
she was never as close to pain as you were, though.
she just met him at a dance one time and smiled shyly
and let him glide his hands along her hips, but she
never ever let him have her.
(& she taunted taunted taunted).
she wasn't like you. it's not that you wanted pain,
it's just that you learned to live with him after he
met you at the dance, the same night he met her, and
he put his hands on your hips and you let him and he
was near you and on you and you let him you didn't
want to but you let him because you were scared and you
red button-downthe scent of lilacks and stag-red button-down in Free Verse More Like This
nant water lingers in the air
when you are present.
of the dust
of the hope
of the strife,
carry the smell throughout
you're (almost) homeless.
all alone, with no one to share the
bright-white walls in that
structure you call 'home.'
the red button-down sweater
you wear is a tad too large;
it billows around the sagging skin
of your fragile body,
the age-old fabric weighing you down.
& the plight of senior-living
and brittle bones burdens
your powerful mind.
(as i sit, never alone, on
the plastic-covered couch,
struggling to find some
rhyme or reason to the stains
of your chipped-porcelain
savedso there's this feeling.saved in Free Verse More Like This
this plain, raw, passionate feeling
that i can't even describe in a few simple words.
old, classic, american-made bricks.
(the kind that broke grandpa's back).
now imagine a lot of those bricks.
a lot a lot.
like 13,291 of them.
that's a lot of bricks, huh?
imagine having to carry a sack
of those 13,291 bricks wherever you went.
you'd get pretty tired, wouldn't you?
thousands and thousands of
rusty pocket knives.
the kind you remember
daddy using when you went camping
with him & mommy & little tommy.
now imagine having those knives
dangle right above your head and
around your body all the time.
no escaping the fear of having your
life taken away from you at any
one wrong step
not happy & inspirational ones like
"dream" & "love" & "freedom" & "peace."
no no no.
i mean disgusting words.
words that make you want to vomit on
and throw punches at the people using them.
what to do when he doesn't say it backa)what to do when he doesn't say it back in Free Verse More Like This
you will give all of yourself to a boy who won't know you at all.
he will recycle your parts, make you stationary, bind you into
paper that he will gift back so you can write poetry about him.
you, too, say i love you quickly.
when he doesn't say it back, evaporate.
he will kiss you in places you didn't know existed.
until him, you were a peasant in your body's palace.
he crowned you princess, broke the lock of your castle's gates.
when he doesn't say it back, load your cannons.
you are a fountain pen.
look him in the eye when you write him letters on your skin.
when he asks to read them, surrender.
you have always been this way: too eager
to make wildflowers bloom inside of him.
when he doesn't say it back, trim the stems.
when he tells you that your eyes remind him of tree bark,
show him that your gaze is sturdier than nature's limbs.
without breaking eye contact, slowly back him into a wall.
when he expresses discomfort,
ask if he knows what choking is like.
Embezzlements of LoveI start watching a romantic comedy and I realize that I have to start drinking.Embezzlements of Love in Free Verse More Like This
I start drinking and watching a romantic comedy, and I realize that I have to start writing.
I start writing and I realize I have never written anything into completion.
I even drink coconut rum.
I will always write short, unorthodox, poetry.
And I may finish the bottle.
A Man that Runs on PicturesFuck the trivialA Man that Runs on Pictures in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Averse visual learner
Words are important
How do you make power?InternecionHow do you make power? in Free Verse More Like This
It's all quite rapine.
Don't you think?
Ode to the PenlessPEN-LESS.Ode to the Penless in Surrealism More Like This
A moderate inconvenience has been resolved.
imagine me locked to a bit of reluctancy.
Lost in record-proof thought,
Grasping for clarity or the clairvoyancy of yesterdays recently past.
Confused by the bloodstains of another endeavor,
I wait for the downpour in,
reality to begin.
Perhaps the decent participation of precipitation will storm the brain out of this pseudo-stagnation.
"Let it rain!"
Style and grit.
The Plutonic Law of GraceLoving someone elseThe Plutonic Law of Grace in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Petrified; a lifetime shared
Our tilted hopes drift
American ApartheidA dream in three colorsAmerican Apartheid in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Bisected, two sides by choice
A country, bleeds not
Literally AppreciativeCombined bits of youLiterally Appreciative in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Simply ideas strung together
I evolve through words
Feeding my mind and my soul
Every page is hope
In Honor of My Pillows and BlanketsSliding in, they graspIn Honor of My Pillows and Blankets in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Lustrous, they tempt me with warmth
All for pleasant sleep
Innocence is a Woken DreamBlind to life's tormentInnocence is a Woken Dream in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Severity be damned
Why must we grow up?
1.33I am my two strong legs now;1.33 in Free Verse More Like This
I am the sciatic pain radiating down one and the raised welts on the other
I am a functioning heart
and a functioning dick
I am not a castle
I am not a moat made of glasses and hair dye
when I adorn myself it is to emphasize, not to detract
I am twice the size I used to be
and thrice anyone you'll ever be
devotionI think I'm falling in lovedevotion in Free Verse More Like This
with an idea,
a desperate wish,
in the land of cold and sand,
treading the line between desire and asceticism
only to find you again.
but this isn't something that I can be stoic
there's a pantheon in my chest
and you're still the only one
I pray for.
you, something I reach for
but do not quite touch:
a bird or rose,
a slab of marble
the stuff of every
shrine and temple
that was ever touched by mortal hands.
and I want to lay my hands on you
you shouldn't worryI am a Turing machine, it seemsyou shouldn't worry in Free Verse More Like This
"You say you feel--"
"It looks to me--"
commit, commit, commit,
the urge to down antihistamines
awake at a late midnight,
you kiss yourself in the dark
and there's a ticking in the back of your throat, dripping to the punched-out stomach
a still-forming fibrin mesh
big man about townbig man about town doesn't want his girlfriend to knowbig man about town in Free Verse More Like This
about the pretty little twink on the side
girlfriend doesn't want her best friend to know about the time with the video tapes and the lubricant
that belonged to her next-door neighbor
doesn't want brother to know what he found in the baseboard in the secret compartment
or the drawer under the sink
ignorance is bliss
and yeahwe broke ourselves on the edge of dawn,and yeah in Free Verse More Like This
bottles and bottles and a small smoking pile of cigarette ash
you said sleep is for the weak
you said a lot of things are for the weak.
the girl in the boy's underwear told you were being selfish
and she told you to get a grip
maybe it was a bit mean,
but i think she had a point
characterisationa pinchcharacterisation in Free Verse More Like This
he's sorry he doesn't talk to you any more, that he's let the wolf in his chest stir and rise from the long winter sleep
behind everything he breathes a sense of remorse
under everything he exhales guilt--
he's little fingernails scraping up the insides of his lungs like the insides of a pumpkin on halloween
he's cigarette smoke between cracked lips
he's the coldest desert dweller you've ever seen,
the shadow of a dune,
a long-limbed, white-skinned
love like raisinslittle bitchlove like raisins in Free Verse More Like This
itch itch itch
are beautiful like the sun
and all the ugly cliches
you are beautiful like girls in songs by the Cars
all i want is to peel your skin off like sheer pantyhose
all i want is to get at the clementine-sticky ants underneath
you are a bad scab.
strawberryi need to get to that point where the paint is crawling in flecks up my arms and my hands are coated,strawberry in Free Verse More Like This
where tree branches scratching fade to antiseptic hum,
where you are nothing but a face in the background.
i need a smock i don't care about,
a clump of cold dirt,
i need a seed.
to the blood on your fistthe mounting forebodingto the blood on your fist in Free Verse More Like This
a cliche, you know
a maze all around and chimney-stack above,
sky straight through
what good is sickness?
what is there to gain?
what good is the medicine cabinet
if all within is pain?
there's a mirror in a mirror and a mirror over that
and a clicking shattering shuddering
to the blood on your fist.
breathe, pleasei love you anonymously,breathe, please in Free Verse More Like This
in smoke-lit corners
stitch you up bleeding fast on the ground of night
slick thread and your hope draining out the holes
you can't even snap the edges off the fear, you
can't file depression to a point
you, closest man-friend, a corpse, and i revive you yet
waistcoat spread like your ribs after autopsy
note 22you are the thin sliver of thoughtnote 22 in Free Verse More Like This
that graces my thighs as i
undress for him
raw collection of poemsand i am missing youraw collection of poems in Free Verse More Like This
and i am fucking
when you climb into bed, think of me. the
rosary that downs the bottom of your
drawer is a silly reminder of what i had
taken from you
ice cold and his
i was warm
i look at myself and i see lines
impending on themselves
bending from the weight of my soul.
i am heavy
i am middle-afternoon
and i can't uncurl myself
from the telephone or the
idea of you
we work like polar
but i swear to god i was meant to
meld with you;
you go north
and i south,
thwarting what we built
between force fields
i look at my self and i see lines,
cracks in the mirror
all down my thighs where you
broke me in two
i will come back together
(only to be
split back a
part by you)
come home, come
i need early morning
i need lack of sleep
and i need the cold
to my soul
just to stop
the world siphoning the
air from me
i am not doing
larry's sisteri imagine the slight, yellow-penciled body of my post-adolescence self, dipping the mined waters of junior high. young teens prowled the bathrooms, preening and tousling their hair, reflecting through the tarnished mirrors with faces of question like, where d'you come from, who's your brother, what's his favorite color.larry's sister in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
did he fuck hannah?
and i remember the word fuck like an arbitrary sanctification. my mind corroded to fit the word precisely between my lips and lunged from the bed of my lilly-pad tongue.
i didn't even know what it meant.
'oh yeah,' i'd tell them. they were big girls. they always were. the ones who'd pull you by your roots into a bathroom stall and spit things at you like, where the fuck you come from.
then i'd say, you know larry, the mexican-looking boy downstairs. that's my brother.
and i wouldn't tell them that he was a virgin because larry had told me two nights before the big first day that being a virgin was like wearing yellow w
Tzedakahthere is a boyTzedakah in Free Verse More Like This
in my french class who
shivers while holding
the pages of his
telling me that i am pretty.
i let him know that
i don't have any insides
left for charity.
goldenankles tied to the bed,golden in Free Verse More Like This
i want you here
to hear the bones crack
as you turn me over,
let my front side bake
‘neath the rays
of the asphyxiated
making my skin bleach
dehiscedmy carcassdehisced in Free Verse More Like This
swims in the boulder bones of
my love; contoured in the lines
of cartilage that i am not
make up my back
this skin of ours
is so thin, love
like a sheet
of white linen lies
connects our ankles
arms and legs,
makes its home curled around
our throat; we
head to toe
the skin is tightening
this air is loose,
and my heart
behind the doors
of this vessel we've
to let me
etheral brideshe is a sell outetheral bride in Free Verse More Like This
hangs wrung around her own neck,
hanging by her braids
she has antlers that
hold her to the ceiling
and hooves that chain her
to the ground
"why am I not right?"
(she doesn't know that
made of white porcelain bones can
lodge themselves in your throat,
she doesn't know why
her hair is made of thorns that
stick to her lovers bed, she
you are beautiful.
her body falls,
the sky tilts
to fit her in its palm as
her white feathered head
something should be saidof all the things that are infinitesomething should be said in Free Verse More Like This
human birth and death,
her eyes are wide but
they are pools
trajected from a hole in his brain
knees make grave in the ground to
but you are only sucumbing to god
and praying that he hears
the protector i grind my palm into my stomachthe protector in Free Verse More Like This
and it crumbles like the soft rock
towering the highway, crashing on
the paved road.
i am not at a loss as to how it is
i became so weak. i sat myself
down one night a while ago
as i shivered from your words,
and i said
soak it in, let it poison you.
i am not a drug addict. but in you
i looked for the possibility of feeling.
and you did poison me.
i sit within dreams where your mouth
is wet, and tugging me, and my
hands are pressed deep within the
parts of you that stay warm.
i am not cold. but my bones ache
as if they are, perhaps it is because
you are so close, or perhaps it is
because the air stills when you
in the morning i wake with my mouth
dry and my palms wet and my shoulders
aching. and my voice stumbles, as if it
slipped out in the middle of the night
to find you.
i can never find you.
i do not blame you
for the absence.
i know that if you were brave enough
you would stay. i know that if your
skin did not crawl w
Haloed Gray LedgeMy heart was a North American skyline,Haloed Gray Ledge in Free Verse More Like This
and my throat was a turnpike on highway 62,
and my voice
my voice was a lawnmower refusing to turn
over, and my heart was a timpani drum
tuning up beneath the heat of another day,
and my eyes were the percussive sun
sounding off in the dawn,
and my legs were streets wrapped in leaves
and my veins were the blue-pines shedding
their needles in the carpet, and my smiles were
picking the fragments of ornaments up
from the rug,
and my death wish was an orchestrated Dutch hymn.
And no one understood and
there was nothing good and
And I dreamt that flowers grew the same color in every
and Oregon burst like an artery
on valentine’s day, and metaphorical hearts
shouted Mountain Goats lyrics to high heaven,
and my literal heart howled loud
beneath the stethoscope and was not quiet
like the right side of my body.
And my body was a body again
and not a poet’s home where the stovetop never lit up
viii. Audrey The moonlight was onviii. Audrey in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
the water, & you made me want
to be a person.
for fear the end is coming soon.My body does not want to wake upfor fear the end is coming soon. in Free Verse More Like This
to this morning. To a day that
contracts rather than expands,
gradual as a wine bottle.
I want to spill forth,
my bundled limbs unbound,
mouth open: hungry for cherished ones,
yearning for words.
My body longs to feel changed by a single hour,
to be engulfed by the penumbral sky
shimmering through the trellis of clouds.
But it is simply casting lines.
My feet do not want to feel the floor beneath them,
to push up against my spine
and endure the lathering of new skins
as roads on my bones.
To feel the years
dropping like pennies into my stomach.
To the Feline EffeminateI have realized that loveTo the Feline Effeminate in Free Verse More Like This
means not moving or touching,
and by not touching I mean:
allowing you to thread your claws
through my skin in order to translate,
opening doors to your wolverine eyes
blue as giraffe tongues.
It is holding you tightly as you unfold across whatever nonsensical thing
my pen is attempting to forage for meaning
-whether it be driver's manuals or Bukowski or
tarnished bits of San Francisco sky-
and then not disengaging you.
Love is locking you in and/or out
to keep from murdering you
when, at 4:43 in the morning,
all I can feel is your psychotic need
for closeness tearing at my insomniac mind
like the teeth of a comb
I have never known anything as sweet
or as anxiously affectionate as you.
Sometimes I honestly believe you can hear
the soft sounds my throat makes as I lay
face first in
waking only to your nose pressed to my elbow,
breathing in the musk of aloe and high school
Your paw snaking beneath the door
is the only thing that
InitialsYour words are more ambidextrous than that girl down the street with cropped-short pink hair that writes with both feet instead of her hands.Initials in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Tragic; born that way, people say. But there are phantoms itching under her harvest-moon exterior; compressed down into the present like malevolent night-time spider-ghouls with long faces.
Sometimes her shoulders jerk like they used to bear the imcomparable weight of appendages, but then lost them along the way.
Remarksi. I like the way you call meRemarks in Free Verse More Like This
and always hang up on the second ring
because you know I get the shakes and the shivers
and sometimes, but not always, my knees fall off
and I have to crouch down to find them.
ii. I keep thinking about you.
and your ten-thousand tans
and your lack-luster smile
gaping open with colloquialisms.
You and the way you say
"you're pretty and thin"
as if one more label will be the gunshot
and I'll finally escape that dream
in which I'm running, but my feet are melting
through the sidewalk and my arms are
casting impossible shadows.
iii. It reminds me of how inarticulate words are sometimes;
how they flit through me every second and yet
I tend not to write them down around you
because, every time, I wake up and
forget why I am.
How your words mean next-to-nothing to me
because you throw them around
like ping-pong balls, and
I prefer to sip them like sweet tea.
iv. You say things like "I love you" and
it reminds me of how I will never be anyone.
How I me
talk_The car isn't in the drive,talk_ in Free Verse More Like This
and the first thing that comes
to my lips is:
"they're probably still making out
on the sofa."
eye contact descends,
silent hopes and dreams
ping-pong off the windows,
quick and easy
in the closet_
metal rod and
say the words though
"Mom, Dad, I'll--I've--I'm--"
Verbs are the hardest:
and the gender is unforgivable.
In Memory of a MemorySoftnessIn Memory of a Memory in Free Verse More Like This
and the way your teeth whistle
on those tenderly confided vowels;
your hands shaking
against my backpack-bent shoulders,
rubbing away the ache of biology,
and classroom composition, and
the endlessly long equation -
I could watch the trees
tangle for hours
with you pressed into the flowers beside me;
your knees bent and my ankles crossed,
our fingers braiding themselves
between blades of grass to find the other.
I find gentleness, sometimes,
in the way you climb trees:
your shoes scrambling for traction,
laughter making your arms go weak,
and causing crimson-yellow leaves to
drift down on me.
It's like a dance, sometimes, isn't it?
Weaving through the wake-fields,
to find the beginning.
You always want to jump ahead;
to thrust your flighty hands into the air
and be the first one -
to be the first, ever, at anything,
just to prove the silence wrong.
On cold days, eagerness,
such as the need for snowflakes,
is adorable to
Bathroom IdeasBalanced on the sink,Bathroom Ideas in Free Verse More Like This
there is an instinct:
the instinct of a wounded animal to hide.
Stockings furl gently over timidly
scarred kneecaps (too many nights pretending
not to pray), tuck-and-rolling around
those thighs; thighs with muscles that
run the full length
like a seam: a seam in too-tight jeans.
She stands, tugging her skirt down,
always down in the back, front, right side,
left side because short is not enough fabric
to conceal all
the sensitive spots she thinks she
owns like rainbow wristbands.
There is a vagueness in her movements
that makes you wish for more.
Lonely eyes glimmer green in
passing; eye contact a thing of
fleeting beauty and expression:
always a half-smile hidden on
pavement-lined lips: bitten red.
A loneliness seeps into those steps --
-- so shallow and innocent.
She does not look at herself in the mirror
unless to paint her face away,
pencil on eyelids.
There is a tenderness in the way
she braids her hair over one shoulder
body.I want to fold mybody. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
self in half, perfectly:
bending at the break.
-feel sunlight on those
crevices and crannies in
with phalanges chilled by spring,
and pick the locks in
all those daisy chains
that tether me to chair legs
so I must stand still,
immobile: weak in
my core - something counting down
to absolution -
trapped: strong in spite of
(because of) those iron rods
buried in my shins.
I am braced for the
Apocalypse of my soul:
The subtle let down.
I want to drift a-
-way, way far away, to lands
gray and beautiful.
Please, let me crease this
spine down the middle, femurs
shattering. Seal my
tight shut with resin
and turpentine: liquefied
the road to hellnobody ever means to.the road to hell in Free Verse More Like This
but if the sky can't bring itself
to give a shit, though,
well then; tough luck.
(the only "good people"
are the ones who can wake up
and know the days when
they should just stay in bed.)
frog skinsomeday i'm going tofrog skin in Free Verse More Like This
figure out what it is
that i'm looking for
and find it.
can you imagine it?
the Great Neon Cities would throw
up; would throw parties.
―but until then i'll
be patient like i'm not,
i'll be floating an inch above the ground;
for time to pay money at
the toll booth when it's
passing through me;
for the chance
to build and build from
human guts and glitter;
for schools to teach
from a philosophy textbook
full of oneyearold's wisdoms;
i'll be waiting;
for and until
pure and bitter
circumference 361circumference in Free Verse More Like This
of a circle is
a long and tiring
path for us to travel on.
oh, if only there
were an easier way.
lilith's edenmy soul is an inside joke;lilith's eden in Free Verse More Like This
you would've had to have been there.
(i don't have a balcony on which i can lean and think deep thoughts, but;
the world will only ever be as it is.
time is not something
which moves inside of us, but it passes
through us uncaringly and does not exist in seconds or years.
space is not something
which is filled or displaced, it is simply
too strong to be pushed around by our bodies.)
you know, The Parting Lady's final words before she left us were that "It is not difficult to simply go."
(she was right. she would've been right. she had been right.)
don't ever skip stonesrecognize this phenomenon for what it is;
if there are hundreds which leave by sea then
there are no doubt thousands which leave by sky.
The Old Feelings(i'm a little high right now because yesterday i gave up my soul to a broom. it was only out of goodwill, though, i promise. this exchange took place back stage, about five minutes before a dance performance. it seemed rather appropriate at the time. you see, the broom was a dancer―just like me―and i felt a bit of a kinship with it because of that, or maybe because of the emotions that fluttered through the bristles―i could see 'em, smell 'em, could practically taste 'em―but there was no sweat on it's brow, no soul that i could see.The Old Feelings in Emotional More Like This
i remembered how S had called me beautiful that night, and i remembered how i couldn't think of the last time anyone but my mommy had said that to me, and i swallowed all my pride along with most of my teeth. just for a little while. because i knew that K wasn't right about the inequality of broomsticks and people, and that if it were my choice i would never step on anything, not even shoes. it wasn't fair, not at all,
ms. every monday morninggood girls don't get spray tans.ms. every monday morning in Free Verse More Like This
even when they've gotta down a whole bottle of Pepto Bismol,
two Advil, two cups of saccharine sweet coffee and a shitload of Prozac
they don't do it.
even when they can't find a pair of matching socks and the toast
tastes like a buttered crematorium and the cereal tastes like toast
they don't do it.
even when all is well, even when all is right
(there are never any silent nights, dumbass).
even when it's a glitter grey day
to live in a crunchy caramel coating
nope, even then, the good girls don't do it.
almost haiku, i (the depths)i changed my mind, okay?almost haiku, i (the depths) in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
i don't want to be a writer,
i just want to wake up.
for old time's sakeyou know that feeling that you get in the pit of your stomachfor old time's sake in Free Verse More Like This
when you realize you can never go back?
(i used to be a lover before i was a fighter,
but that was a really long time ago.)
where are they nowxxx.where are they now in Free Verse More Like This
i hate it
how whenever i
have problems, you
tell me to
ask god, but
i can't find
god or breakfast
in the pieces
of food stuck
between my teeth.
bite your tongue!ー
things aren't the
same as they
used to be.
(you won't begin to fathom
how hard this is
for me to
if she were any more tomato she'd be blueberryxvii.if she were any more tomato she'd be blueberry in Free Verse More Like This
i want to write about how this world of
absolute truth, knowledge, and solid food
that which we hold high between two fingers is always
full of watery applesauce and little white half-truths.
and about how utterly strange
it is that all the simple things that people
write about on pages are, in reality,
very few and far between.
and i want to write about how there is
peace and war and
poverty and treasure and
cruelty and sometimes,
i want to write a poem about why the hell i'm wasting
my time writing poems when i could maybe
actually be doing something productive
or contributing to society or
and i want to write about why there aren't
nearly enough apple trees that grow
in dark moldy closets or underwater
or on the sun or inside craters of the moon
or in the desert or in the deep winter.
because god knows those places
need them now mor
This shall be our victory.Oh but to feel the motions of existence rip through your soul, be it for better or worse.This shall be our victory. in Philosophical More Like This
In our meekness we fumble for sense and await the day where...some sort of impending battle festers. Again and again. It's not in our nature to give up; were we even given that virtue?
"I can't remember our creation."
"You'll terrify yourself."
"It was your fault."
Fault it is not; perhaps a diligent step towards courage to finally - finally - resist the pull of what we may call...indistinctness.
It is something universally recognised. We needn't even speak of it; it's a silent language. "Oh, I've had that battle before."
Indeed you have, for there is nowhere else to go but into war. What is the reward we reap? Justice, and truth. No doubt that we all know what we argue for.
"Liberty didn't get us far."
The Waiting GameI sit, darkly enraptured.The Waiting Game in Philosophical More Like This
This is akin to something I've seen before - a shifting of planets, a turning of the earth, an abrupt starburst of life. I watch it, I listen, I feel it take me up in its embrace. But alas, it doesn't whisper like it used to. It feeds lies into my thoughts; black clouds of smoke and fog, and plaintive cries of loss and mourning. I am numb to it. I am ice, I am stone, even if it echoes down endless corridors and touches fingertips with mine. I feel nothing.
I wish not to suppress it. A longing to bring it to life rages on inside, unrelenting and just as strong as everything I've felt before.
But what can I do? There's no room for change. I know I'm going to stay up too late again, and suffer for it in the morning when the sun is too afraid to make an appearance in this melancholy season. Coffee I must cut back on; it's getting too black, too poisonous. Nothing keeps me going. I live on the dregs of my motivation.
Yet I long for the sweet, engulfing sadness that
Claustrophobia"You."Claustrophobia in General Fiction More Like This
She looked up. No one there. "What?"
"You. Now. Here."
Shivering, she lifted herself up off the ground. His lithe form was in front of her, somehow arrogant and banal in its own skin, yet not exposing a cell of its inward appearance. She didn't budge. Heartbeat was absent. The glassiness of his eyes had solidified, and she was left staring at something not quite there, and not knowing herself if she was dreaming or not. Everything was so...cold...
She swallowed. "I can't."
She winced at his sharp reply. Nothing seemed as if it were existing...there was just noise. Noise and voices she could hear, albeit vaguely. "I...I don't know..."
"I can see you."
She listened for a slight shuffling before she answered back. "I can't see you."
The silence was adamant then. What once was the soft music of birds, creaking and small scuttles in the rafters, was no more. There was no sound. She didn't even hear a voice that validated her existence.
But she felt something. She felt a pa
I never needed anybodyI've set myself free.I never needed anybody in Free Verse More Like This
Maybe I don't need anymore -
the redemption, the desire for closure
vanished in stardust rain
and words became empty, conceptless -
then I looked at myself in the mirror
and saw who I've always wanted to be
slowly forming before my eyes.
To be her,
I don't need.
I've forgotten the discomfort
and embraced the peace
of being alone
seeing no one
except my own reflection
who smirks and winks
and says 'Look at you'.
And I'll never ask
"Does it hurt you to know that I'm okay?" -
I've known 'eternity' long enough,
'forever' long enough
to discover that language does not communicate
the triumph of
and 'hurt' is just another costume for
into the endless pool
healing fissures and faults
in its skin.
My face is filling out.
Do you know what it's like to have stars in your eyes?
To exist inside and around yourself?
There was the girl
About Love in Throes of PossessionI.About Love in Throes of Possession in Free Verse More Like This
And even though
we face each other
standing on either side
of the earth,
separated by leagues of oceans,
by mechanical rebuttals,
by cultured sensibility -
the 'his world and mine' -
I feel I must intrude:
to stretch out my neck,
while you grip me in
to open my eyes
wider than I've dared before;
discriminating what you call right.
Not to prove you wrong,
but to argue louder
so that you may not
Precociously, I am nothing
more than yours; no-one knows
better than me, and my
fantasy reign over you.
It's not enough to know
that you're safe, because you're
not safe with me; you're on your own
and something else,
with others that cannot speak
my language; whose gestures I am
able to return, expecting nothing
other than unfamiliar
In the clearing.The black soil is soft after rain;In the clearing. in Free Verse More Like This
I am remembering autumn-turned-effervescent green.
Summer's glow (in the haze of midday.)
In the morning I repent for silence
when I look upon the clear-cut water.
It is because you sleep beside me
with the softest of feathered breaths.
And even though the grass grows around us
and we feel the shadow of phantom trees,
your eyes elude the passing shades of grey
to become bright
while the rain births fresh orchids with
peace to summer -
these are the days to come,
if we dance together;
fledgling emerald saplings twist to turn
to each other,
and hold on.
And just like the two children we are,
sharing Chinese-whisper secrets
between the morning silence
and twilight, post-mortem -
Your words brush against the interwoven start-pause
tapestries we cling to;
with hope to
To the sound of silverbells."Do you think people make up stories because reality is unbearable?"To the sound of silverbells. in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Anna looked at Olivia sideways from the foot of the bed. The blonde, creamy girl was sitting cross-legged; dainty and neat with her white hands intertwined. She had the look that told Anna she didn't know what to say.
"Think about it. Books become a way to leave this world and enter another. One that might be completely false and unlikely. Why don't we try to rationalise books? Because they're imagined?" Olivia flinched at Anna's sceptical tone. "It's the same with paganism and religion. All the myths are impossible. Was it better to believe in something more colourful, more dramatic than our own lives?"
Anna had softened her voice, and that would be the only time Olivia would choose to speak up; for Anna spoke often and quite passionately, and sometimes it was too much to handle, too much to understand. But on the rare occasion that the blonde child had something to say, she would not hesitate.
"Life is as dra
Rain-lightWhen we look, there's a sense. Thoughts slow and become smoke, fog, mist; a light frost. Underneath the breeze and the crystal dew, morning comes in the dark of rain. Sunlight is miniscule and insignificant.Rain-light in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
- A sense of here. Now, seeing. Upon wakefulness is recognition of a coexisting universe. Do we ever know how clear it is that we live in two different worlds? Sleep is consciousness; more alive and real than reality.
But we do remember the rain, every day of our lives. She is a light of another nature; a wetness, water - there's always so much water - and life in its purest form. When rubber boots gather mud and birds sing, shake their feathers; the musky spray of plant scent, the iridescent green. In her cool hand do we rise, widen our eyes, and breathe in silence.
Opened arms - for there are no barriers out here - bring us in and stroke our cheeks. We're children of the water and we try to return to rebirth. Stepping out, forget how cold it is, treadi
Lie DetectorThey told you that when you jumped, you'd be fine - not a scratch on that pale body of yours. And it's not that long a way down, is it? You can do it. Just a little more...towards the edge...Lie Detector in Philosophical More Like This
Guess it was true. The more you looked over the edge, the lower the distance you had to travel until your feet hit the ground again. But I had serious doubt that what they said was true. Perhaps it was some illusion they provoked you into following; that it's not really an elevated surface you're plunging from, and it's not really jagged rocks below. Their words dressed it up and made it sound friendlier to the innocent ear. Because the victims didn't know any better, did they? Take advantage of what you will. They'll be exposed to the truth soon - make use of the remaining time.
I had little to say on the subject; whatever I said resisted their ideologies. My challenges went ignored with a short glance backwards, as if they knew I'd conform quickly and so nothing I ever said was worth thei
Magnets and MiraclesForever exists.Magnets and Miracles in Philosophical More Like This
It's there when we glance forward and backwards, along the line of our footsteps through time, barriers of space and existence trawling along the horizon. It looms above us; a foreboding shadow of deep regret, deep longing, the screams of the pained echoing in the atmosphere, and nobody dares to listen.
We reach dizzying heights and we see the scattered trees and the armies of tin soldiers marching in time.
It was a place we knew, until the ringing of the bell was heard, and suddenly we were divided. The bombs fell while the erected statues of hope were cut down like sheep, trembling like abandoned babes in the livid cold as they took their last breaths.
We hold out our hands and beg for that golden pendant of change to land in our palms, our eyes staring up at the big blue sky in question, and something rains down on us, softly.
Not what we wanted.
But in this place called forever, high hopes do no favours.
High hopes are nothing but a wall.