|More Journal Entries|
Not the First PangA fresh transgression;
you stabbed me in the back, said
It was a bee sting,
ignored the bleeding - - I am
anemic and allergic.
Faint of HeartsI.
My prison is one of carved trees and dead photographs. Splinters play paper cuts along the strings of my sanity and shred them one-by-one in a countdown to my sentence. Breathing in black and white, I wonder what it means to suffocate.
He placed fingerprints inside of my flesh and lysed me like a disease. With sternum on vertebrae and rib cage sprawled to match the pelvic girdle, my heart cannot withstand the atmospheric pressure. I have no stomach for the sight of blood.
Butterfly, you are the only color that I have left. Fairy dust stains my irises with rainbows and dread, leaving a moth's corpse from his destruction. Did it hurt when he crushed your wings?
I am ink on white paper, a witness to the next victim. She has nothing to give comfort as her mind and body crumble. Her dreams may forge a happy ending, but everything here dies alone.
my father beats me blue
dear mother bleeds me red
sister, i cry on you,
would you hold my head
and make me a less
can these yellow halls
be a new home instead?
LESSER THE WISERWiser the fool who tells the honest lie
A borrowed line, a stolen truth
The gesture of a broken promise
VirulentI loved you--
at least, as much a desert can love the rain:
begging for relief from the torrid sun
and knowing the flood would still hurt the same
I will be my friendThere`s nothing I fear but being in pain
and being myself as well;
these two are the same, since I am insane
in case that you could not tell.
i think that i would live better life
if world didn`t know i was here.
my personalities frequently strive
on whether we need a career
my world is so small, you would miss it
if i was to bring it right up to your eyes:
if it makes me hurt, i dismiss it,
erase it, combust it, and tell myself lies
and after i`m done with stocktaking,
i find myself struggling to feel.
sometimes i suspect that i`m faking,
but not much about me ever seems real
no voice from outside drives me to panic-
the bitch in the mirror does it like none:
she`s evil, and sad, and recently manic;
and always suggesting that we buy a gun.
so i tell myself 'this means i evolve -
it hurts me because this isn`t the end';
and maybe my sickness will someday dissolve,
and maybe someday i will be my friend
They call themselves a medium, but not from what I see,
their medium's unbalanced, so near catastrophe.
They hide machinery under fluid grey and noise,
It's to distract the children with the newest little toys.
They traffick in the human mind, they shuffle you around,
and have the nerve to brag their algorithm will astound.
To feed their analytics, they'll interpret what you've said,
and alter what you see, 'till the gun's against your head.
When questioned on their ethics, they'll hide behind a screen,
and try to use collective fault as means for keeping clean.
They curate all your options and try to call it choice,
then tell you who to vote for in the sound of your own voice.
They feed your every vice, no matter your perspective,
then pull away, and tell you that their evil is objective.
Beauty in Her AirBefore I knew, this autumn ended;
Before I knew, I was a child no more;
It scared me; and I have pretended
That life is measured by some score.
One point for writing every sentence;
Two points for running extra mile;
Dependence - I have groomed dependence
For facing life like it`s a trial
There are no trials; I am just smitten
At what to do to feel complete.
How many poems should be written?
How many of my demons beat?
If I am liked, will I feel ease?
Will I feel better if my legs are thinner?
How much more pain before I seize -
This stupid trial has no winner
I want to be the one who smells the roses.
Who treats herself and others fair
Who lives a happy life and knows it.
Who carries beauty in her air
YouthI used to think I would be young
And feel what may the heroes in the books
Be light like spring and swing among
The young, who care for love and looks
My youth? It is tight skin
And catching longing glances time to time
It`s not my mind; It`s not within
How come my downfall is before the prime?
I do - I want to feel lightheaded
At thought of bills and being old
I want to give my heart and have it shredded
And to ignore what adults told
I feel this part of life that`s missing
At night, like ghost beside my bed
You`d often find me reminiscing
About the past I`ve never had
I think of bills before the mirror
I see the numbers on the shoes you wear
And just right then, it can`t be clearer,
I search for feelings that I could not bear
Be foolish, childish, selfish - for yourself and me.
Keep laughing, pour another in your cup
That one grim person at a party - leave them be
You can`t be healed from growing up
untitledYou, you have to keep it together, in
your moods and in your words, for
your two grown children and the in-laws -
for the grandson who looks so much
like him and is a performer too, who
is too young to visit him with the family
I, I have no such compunctions, nor rules
to abide, nor loss of my time when I'm called -
I'm here all night, three nights, while you sleep, while
you rest to keep your brave face on, and he calls.
I'm here to hear his last performances - his singing,
speaking, reading, his talking the nights away
'til surgery day.
I hear his fear, his bravery, his dread and his
wit while it's whittled down by long hours of
pain, his reality of loss and a long life near over -
all the depth of his deconstruction, declared in
tones both strong and weak while he speaks to me,
and I don't know the outcome of the docs' work
because I'm just the other woman today,
a wild one,
in a cave,
a bird that has stopped singing.
Reasons to Say I Love YouI reach for you, over the phone, and you are there, you allow me to touch you.
You reach for me and I reach back, and we meet somewhere in the middle.
I cry and you listen, I blow my nose and you wait, I sigh and you don't interrupt.
Why don't you cry? I am strong enough for that. Really.
I laugh and we laugh together - oh yes, I hear your smile over the phone when I laugh, and when we laugh together, and when we breathe each other in on the inhale, and share the exhale.
You are never trite. You have bite, but if you've bitten me, I didn't/haven't noticed, and would I mind if you did? Only if it was meant to hurt, but you, first and foremost, are the kindest man I know; open, fresh, and raw.
I suffer from blind alleys; you lead those you care about through mazes - yes, you amaze, and shine lights in dark places; you can't know what I've forgotten, but you help me not care.
I'm just getting started here. We have only started.
XOXO Child Letters: H1XOXO Child Letters: H1
"Without your space helmet, Dave?
You're going to find that rather difficult."
-- a friend in a galaxy far, far away...
What 1s y0ur Em3rgency?
7he 0ld 0nes ar3 dy1ng:
1n way5 th15 i5 a g00d 7hing;
0ld 1's b3tter 0ff d3ad.
7imes, wh3n th3y fa11,
Time5 fA11 d0wn, d0wn...
0pera7ors R n0t
P1ea5e 5tand bye,,,
7he y0ung5, 7he y0ung5
ar3 dy1ng: sum7time5 th15 is
g00d, i7 can be5 very g00d;
y0ung5 1's b3tter 0ff d3ad.
5ome7imes, 50me-5ome 7ime5,
7hey 8urn & 8urn & 8urn...
0pera7ors R n0t
Wh0 # d0 pl3ase5?
7he 0ld 0nes ar3 dy1ng:
0ld 0ne5 kn0wing5 n0 g00gle5;
0ld 0ne5 kn0wing5 n0 7wi77er5;
0ld 0nes, 0ld 0n3s, 0ld 1's.
5m0ky wi7h 7time... 7ime5 can b3 g00d;
7ime5 5ometimes can k1llz. ki11z...
0pera7ors R n0t
y0ur fr1nd5. bye.
d0 U lik3 m3, s0me7ime5?
[Flash Fiction] Layover
As they looked in the mirror, they were amazed to find two completely different people smiling back at them.
Her hair had grown into luscious brown locks, while he wore a pearly smile on his face with his hand over her shoulder. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, the pair were dressed in warm garments, matching the scenic view of the crumbling autumn leaves and the grey drying trees. Long gone were the creases in the corner of their cracked lips, the hollow darkness beneath their eyes, and the sickly paleness of their skin. Long gone were the feelings and fears of hurt and dying.
Here they were now, living a tranquil life near the edge of a cliff overlooking yellow valleys that spanned towards the glowing horizon, where every day the sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the intertwined pair in golden light, gently awakening them from their slumber. It wasn't much. It was only a simple house on the edge of nowhere. But they felt they had more; much more than they've ever
[Short] Man in the Mirror
"A willow deeply scarred, somebody's broken heart
And a washed out dream
They follow the pattern of the wind, ya see
'Cause they got no place to be
That's why I'm starting with me—"
"I never took you as a singer, Detective."
Callahan choked. Crap. He jerked his head to the door of his office. A woman stood there, a smile creeping onto her face. Oh god, not her. He drew in a breath and clenched his jaw. "The forensics lab isn't this way, Maxine."
"I only came here to collect the evidence you borrowed from the lab," Maxine said, stifling her grin. "The phone, to be exact."
Out of all of the people that could've walked in, it just had to be the person he would have to work with the most. It just had to be the one who never failed to uphold a subtle sense of composure and respect, like how she stood perfectly still no more than a centimetre into the office, placing one hand on top of the other in a
WildBuried in leaves is a trove of color, a shimmering being spiraling out of its shell, bristling and varicolored, breaking through veils of membranes.
Starry-eyed and sniffing, muzzle silhouetted in the scent of the sun, maroon tail unfurled, rustling decay with scuttering feet. Every node in the spine in harmony, a curved question to a marble sky.
Wintry water drips from sleeves of spirits, folded wings slumber sheltered under leaves. Gilded rays rest on ice, sliding towards shadow.
My gait measures the rocky hills and gnarled roots. Heat under the skin seeks a way out through feeling hands. Faster than the eye can see, I know.
The Dinner Party The dinner was going just about as well as you could have expected, given the attendance of those invited and the immediacy of the matter at hand. The curtains hung dark and silent against the cold windows, the ceiling was alight with the bright flames of the chandelier, and the carpet was thick and burgundy. Everything was in place, and everybody seemed to be enjoying their food; lobster and asparagus was a hit, it seemed. There was a certain air of hurriedness that you could feel, however, like scratching a small spot of eczema on the back of your hand. It sort of itched and was a bit nasty to look at; addressing it only made it burn even more, leaving a painful sensation at which you would normally be frustrated.
You had cleaned your plate many minutes before, and were sitting in quiet repose at the head of the table, waiting for the others to finish so you could make your announcement. Your hands were clasped neatly in front of you, resting on your lap w
Ignition, Book 1: Tinderbox, Chapter 2Who is Justin Orario?
Jake and Drake, who despite being twin brothers, looked quite different, were among the first to make their way out of the building. They weren't sure if Nancy's idea would work, but they still felt it was worth a try.
"So do you think he'll accept an invite to the Martial Arts Club?" Jake asked his brother.
"Did he seem like the type who likes people?"
"Have you known anyone who didn't like people to pass up what they thought was a chance to hit other people without getting in trouble?"
They continued walking along the path which went past a hill when the heard a commotion on the other side. Reaching the top of the hill, it looked like a fight was about to break out between some students in the courtyard on the other side of the hill. Before they had a chance to head over a
Coyote Falls in Love II A long time ago, Old Man Coyote fell in love with a human girl named Norma Jean. She was an ordinary girl, though she became a near-goddess to men later, under another name. Coyote was a god, and a trickster who could shape-shift, so he became a man to court Norma. As a god-man trickster, Coyote was extremely handsome. His manners were impeccable and sly. He would do anything to be with Norma and win her love. He was so effective, she was dazzled within a week. She was very young.
He was very old. Coyote had been around since the beginning of the world. But he was also bowled over by love, knocked silly by Cupid and blind to all but Norma. He lived for her eyes, her laugh, her breath and her words. Coyote forgot his duties as a god. He forgot he was a god. He thought only of convincing Norma to be his. He measured himself by her love and joy, and worked tirelessly for them.
Coyote neglected hi
Call of the Rift: Flight, Chapter 1
“Ouch!” I cursed under my breath and sucked on the line of blood that appeared across my thumb.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Fendul took my hunting knife and peeled a curl of dark wood from the palm-sized figurine. “Hold it like this. You’ll stab yourself in the gut otherwise.”
“Nei. It doesn’t work that way.” I yanked it back from him.
We sat cross-legged on the rocky beach of Kotula Huin, a still, glacial lake. Drifts of fog surrounded us. Colossal hills loomed over the valley, its dense layer of trees barely visible against the dark sky. A dull pink glow silhouetted the jagged peaks to our right. Behind us, the forest dripped. My fingers were too damp to grip the rawhide cord wrapped around my bone knife.
Voices drifted down the shoreline. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked.
Fendul shrugged. “Not until the ceremony starts.”
“So you’re up this early for the fun of it.”
ChimeraIn nothingness I hear blood cascading down the ravine. I feel safe within silken webs, my bony limbs covered in sand. A tail and twenty claws, spine wound like a snake.
I still exist, against all odds, thriving after the purge, infiltrating the cracks with my famished roots, curled under the metal wire floor. I am a mirage, a mistake, an illusion, waiting in a circle of teeth.
Carve an image of me and call yourself a hunter. Tear off my scales and devour the dark flesh. Soil the yellowed pages of my story with your blood-stained fingers, kill to cleanse yourself.
One night you will follow a trail to the woods and become scattered by the stars. Fires will be lit amid your ribs and circles of gold will be drawn around the remains.
My tendrils reach into the empty space beside your shoulders. I learned the secret to happiness the moment I turned mute. If you steal me away from here I will disappear.
Damned Kids"You wanna see something cool, Peter?"
Marnie's hair was long, shaggy. She peered at me through it. Shy. Brown eyes behind black curtains.
Every time she said that, it was an adventure. Danny'd snicker at me. "Where'd she drag you off to this time, Pete? Catch a chicken and kill it? Pull the wings off butterflies?"
The whole town thought Marnie and her family were strange. Marnie was bullied at school. One time Danny shoved a cup of worms into her locker. Everybody thought that was real funny.
I didn’t. It was stupid. Marnie was just quiet. Her mom drank a lot, didn’t leave the house much. Her dad, well. He wasn't around.
Marnie drummed threadbare sneakers on my porch. One of her knees was scabbed.
"Sure," I said. We grabbed our bikes.
Marnie led me down a dirt road. She stopped, skidded up dust. I did the same. "There," she said, "We're going under the fence." She slipped her thumbs under the barbed wire and scooted under it like a raccoon. She held the wire up for me.
What Alice Said The girl wore black, but if you looked closely, you could still see the blood. She was your roommate at the dorm. That's where you saw her that night. She came in so late, you turned on the light to ask why. She looked pale against her black coat and jeans. More pale than you'd ever seen her; she usually had a dark complexion. Now only her dark eyes remained dark, and they looked huge. Her face was almost gray.
"My god," you said. "What happened? Where have you been?" She didn't answer.
You tried again. "Alice? What happened? Are you okay?"
She slumped on her narrow bed. She looked at you and sighed. "Leona is dead."
"Leona, from down the hall," Alice said. "I found her. She's dead."
"That can't be!" you said. "We did homework together yesterday."
"Maura, she's dead. I have to get rid of these clothes. Will you help me?"
"But how did she die?" you asked,
Prompt Challenge: The forgotten shoreI must relay what happened to me. Much happened to change me into what I am now, you see
I was once just a simple sailor. But now I’ve seen and heard far too much, I know now that the parts of the map marked blank, should stay blank.
It all started when we were sailing into the unexplored archipelagos of the Far East. My heart had swelled with the thought of being an exploring, laying bare the mysteries of the world and filling the blank spaces with knowledge.
The voyage started off well enough, but then a violent storm fell upon us without warning. Our barometers failed to warn us, one second it was smooth sailing, the next we were being lashed with rain and waves. Lightning split the sky and the wind howled like evil spirits.
I did my part as a member of the crew, battening down hatches and securing lines. We reefed sails, the pumps worked tirelessly to keep the tiny vessel afloat. Alas it was all for naught, a shadow fell upon us and I saw a wave like the fist of some great gi
Songs and Paintings - W4, D7 There is one thing I might consider sort of a "legacy" I may leave for my family and others. That's words. People who meet me may think of me as generally pretty quiet. I am, at least at first. I like to listen. I like to catch the cadence of other people's words, and consider it a song. I like to observe, and see how people look when they talk, and consider it a painting. These things are pleasing, and I join in.
Later, I like to try to combine what I hear, the songs, and what I see, the paintings, into something like literature. That's the main legacy, now in forms of short stories and articles, many published, many not. My daughter writes poetry I'm very proud of. She's a terrific writer who has also had work published. She also seems comfortable talking to many different kinds of people, and they seem to like her. This is good.
I taught my daughter words starting with sound, and moving soon to letters. We played Scrabble together when she w
His Name Changed Generations The toddler's life held true in the midst of murder and destruction. His name was to pass down through many generations, and the story of how it was received was told over and over again, and will be told yet again. But on November 30, 1864, the little boy stood covered in old blood, hand in his mouth, silent and stunned. Everyone he'd known was dead. They surrounded him, all dead.
It was the day after the Sand Creek Massacre, referred to by the man who caused it as "The Battle of Sand Creek." There was no battle. It had been a simple camp set up by Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians, right by Sand Creek in Indian Territory. It was set up as advised by the U.S. Army. The Indians in the camp also flew a white flag for safety, just as they were told. There were only old men, women and children in the camp, as warrior-age men were sent elsewhere. There was no battle.
U.S. Calvary Commander John Chivington knew about the camp, there in Southeastern Color
Night Visions II The girl drove too fast through the darkest hour of the night. She was fifteen years old, pushing a car almost twice that age to near eighty miles per hour. The motor whined under the pressure of her foot on the accelerator. It was a motor held together with baling wire and a shade-tree mechanic's blessing, her cousin's usual tools.
Adeleine felt free, like the car was her own body speeding forward. She wanted to drive forever. She felt both younger and older, like she was the night itself and all it held. The car was her means to move faster than she'd ever done before.
The girl hurried to get herself and her cousin to meet Uncle at Four Corners on time for breakfast. At least, that was the excuse she'd give her cousin if he ever woke up. She glanced at him, a dark shape asleep on the passenger side, head cushioned by his jacket on the window. She'd let him sleep while she forged ahea