She speaks in sighsShe speaks in sighsShe speaks in sighs in Free Verse More Like This
melancholy dripping from her eyes
to her lips, leaving salty trails
on her pale cheeks
She wanders through a whirling fog
tormented by shadows
of things never there
things that will never come
to break through the misty grey,
to stop the whirling in her mind
the flooding in her eyes
She speaks in sighs
of evaporated hopes,
of disintegrating dreams
She walks hand in hand
the two so intertwined,
there is no room in her heart
the cold so permeating
warmth is simply kept away
MindI've released my mind to the skies; it's wandering, floating away from me now. I need to be grounded, brought back to the physical world. Concepts, ideas, entirely new perceptions race through my mind, competing for elaboration. I am sinking further into the depths, light rays filtering through the bubbles and particles emitted from my dwindling breath; it is a beautiful thing, but it smothers me. I need to regain a place above the surface or risk breathing my last, a place below the skies or risk losing my mind.Mind in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
RollercoasterBipolar disorder:Rollercoaster in Free Verse More Like This
a neurological phenomenon that inhibits the brain's ability to stabilize itself.
A simple imbalance that chews, rips, burns holes through moods.
Through families and friends and lovers,
through the tenuous laces that once tied us together,
now broken through one word,
one manic, uncontrollable phase
induced by the body's own defense mechanisms.
A phenomenon that catalyzes a cycling,
a never ending rollercoaster of ups and downs
that has only one solution,
the final solution that no one wants to resort to,
but that so many do anyway.
The mania, the depression;
the peaks of alpine, deoxygenated bliss
and the boiling, hellish depths of hydrothermal vents;
the places that nobody else has to go
because their minds won't take them there,
MemoryWandering through a forest of memories, each tree a moment; feelings etched into the bark encasing the lifeblood, the flesh of those memories. The air is still, but leaves lose their grip and flutter to the ground as a moment of memory is forgotten, as a notion descends to join the damp depths of the lost. Only occasional rays of light penetrate the ceiling of leaves, filtering to the ground to highlight one buried memory, one hidden feeling, one lost painting of a moment.Memory in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
EyesFrom those eyes I see a reflection, two perfectly spherical mirrors of something not quite me and not quite him, but with a little bit of both; with pieces of ocean, chlorine scented synthesized sea sparkling in those eyes; a blue green iridescence unparalleled by anything save perhaps the shimmering scales of my miniature aquatic companion. I see a history of perfectionism, dappled by hints of perfection itself--though he doesn't know it, despite what I tell him. From them flow an aura, a radiating, endless series of waves of a bright steely blue, capped with white froth and a million rainbow spheres; and he has no idea they even exist. I see a metallic resolve, a flaking, splintering security of greens and blues and a core of black set in those two bright slots, those two bright eyes that are always fixed on me. Those two bright eyes of whose effect he has no idea, not even the slightest notion of the power they possess, the hints of the elements and the divine, and the reflection ofEyes in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
DriveNo matter how far or how fast she drove, it always caught up with her. In fact, it sometimes arrived where she was headed before she even got there; and every time it happened, she pressed the gas pedal a little bit more, pushing herself a little bit faster. She hurtled down freeways, weaving between car after car; she ran red lights, she nearly mowed down her own neighbors. But it always caught up to her.Drive in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As she pushed herself more, she finally threw her caution out the driver's side window; the rules of the roads no longer applied to her. And one day, she drove her car straight into a wall, the cement divider between her old self and insanity, going a hundred and two miles per hour.
And now it couldn't catch up to her, she was free; free from her own mind at last.
InnocenceShe was sitting on a bench that day, innocence shining in her green-grey eyes as she contemplated all things beautiful. Visions of the ocean breeze, of a butterfly's wings, of a flower's stretching petals flitted through her mind, superimposed over the broken streets that loomed about her. Where glass shards blanketed the sidewalk, she saw jewels; where debris lay rotting, she smelled perfume; her world was perfect. Through a ceiling of black-edged clouds broke her own sun, rays playing across her radiant face, filling her innocent eyes to the brim with laughter and love so she could no longer see what the world really was.Innocence in Short Stories More Like This
But as she waited on the bench that day, there was one whose eyes the sun had not reached. He lived for greed, for what little pleasure he could derive from the blackness that filled his heart, as broken as the streets he lived on. Awoken from his poison thoughts, he spotted her solitary, distracted form perched upon the bench, and like a phantom he ripped her from
Tunnel VisionHis very nature makes it so easy to just say yes, just accept him and allow myself to be whisked off to a world of blissfulness, of simplicity, of security. He makes it so easy to just go along, to take his hand and allow him to lead me to a comfortable oasis of chivalry and laughter and a sense of normality. But my eyes and my heart are set on a different place, a place of darkness and subtleties and uncertainties as tangible as the night air. A different person, a different place where I must have my hopes and dreams laid out before me while I wait amidst my darkest miseries--all while awaiting his arrival, the arrival of the other to which my heart belongs. I feel an excitement, a rush, a hope ever lingering, twinkling and dimming as its fickle nature dictates, dancing just barely out of reach. I keep my eyes on this hope, never allowing myself to see the surrounding blackness, the monsters and stalactites and glass shards just waiting to receive me as I fall in my attempt toTunnel Vision in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
ButterfliesThey erupt in my stomach, a great beast belching its smoke and flame in a terrifying display of intimidation; I am overwhelmed. An ocean, a tsunami of delight-crested waves ripple through me, sending me dizzy, reeling, and grasping for thoughts, for the proper reaction. A hot air balloon, floating through the sky, traversing the clouds as puffs of cotton candy, elation, the fleeting hope of a new happiness, the smile that always bubbles to the surface.Butterflies in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
They've dissipated; I recover myself, smile lingering.
An EscapeOnce upon a time, there was a little girl who just didn't quite belong. Her family knew it, the people she thought of as her friends knew it, and most of all, she knew it. Whenever she was around other people, she felt that she was as out of place as a spring flower in the snow; she didn't laugh at quite the right moments, she didn't talk when she was expected to, and she didn't react as she should have to things.An Escape in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
As she grew older, she grew more and more aware that she couldn't keep the people she had come to know; she was just too different. She began to separate herself from her family, the people she'd called her friends, and in a way, even from herself; the strange side of her became her only persona. A new sense of self-consciousness overcame her. She began to walk alone, to eat alone, to stick to herself whenever she had the chance as opposed to risk making her strange nature all the more apparent to those around her. People began to avoid her. She was nearing the point of separ