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Literature
L'amante dell'ingegnere, Part Due
The road before her rippled, blurred, splashed clear just to become rippled again.
The squeak-click of the wind-shield wipers set against the cacophony of raindrops as she drove down the beltway.
"A hundred 'n twenty thousand?" the man had asked, his voice cracking on the final word, "We don't have that kind of money anymore. You know that. R&D's been slashed by five percent every year since 2008; we're lucky the whole department hasn't been gutted."
"I know," she'd responded, her eyes trained on the man's left cheekbone, "but I also know that he's the only reason you've produced anything in the past decade."
The man had turned and looked out the window at the building across the street, tinted glass reflecting towers of turgid cumulonimbus. "He needs to be handled. I'd have given him that by now if I didn't have to keep Lorentz's team constantly checking in on him. They've not been able to take on as many projects with him there."
The highway was a riverbed. As she rounded the curve h
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Literature
Rain Girl
She stepped out of the rain, the girl did. Her hair was straight and brown and, drenched, hung to her waist. She tasted like petrichor and ozone, and in the gloom of the dawn rain her eyes glimmered with the promise of lightning. For what purpose she found me I know not; she came and vanished in a quarter hour, and no one saw her but I. Perhaps the next rain she will return, in the early morning spring showers.
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Literature
L'amante dell'ingegnere
Sometimes he would arrive home covered in chalk dust, his fingers leaving white streaks on her perfectly manicured counters.
She would sigh and wet a dishcloth or a napkin and wipe each of his fingers clean while he sat, ovine. Then she would send him off to shower, and would wipe down the counters again. As he returned to the kitchen she would hand him a skillet and a styrofoam container with chicken or beef and go vacuum the chalk sprinkled liberally on the beige of their bedroom carpet and the white linoleum of their bathroom.
She had tried a Roomba once, but he had taken it apart and now they have a robot lawnmower frightening the neighbor's dogs. Before that she had in a burst of feminist rage sent him to clean up his own mess, and found him thirty minutes later standing in a pile of gears and corkscrew blades and covered in dust from the opened canister.
When she returned to the kitchen he would be setting the table with matching plates and forks on the wrong side, and she would
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Literature
If the sun was a man
If the sun was a man
I would curl inside his arms
And he would keep me warm
And my blood would be
Happy
Until winter
If the wind was a woman
She would dance around me
And I would turn to
Catch her
But I'd be clumsy
Stumbling
And she would blow away
Taking my breath
And 
My blood
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Literature
Tribute to Thorton Wilder
I soared back from beyond into the past. The darkness dragged against my shoulders until I burst from within it and plunged invisible into the pond. The pond was murky brown and the water moved before me as I pushed to the floor. Were it not for the heaviness of water above me I could still have been in the dark, so weak was the moonlight that tried to penetrate the algal covering.
I ascended through the water then and breached the surface by the shore, water sloshing ahead of me as I climbed out on forearms still strong. I became visible and considered entering through the walls of the house before me, ghosting incorporeally where no matter could go, but I decided to leave my grandmother to sleep in the brick walls of the house in which she spent the last of her days. I spun into the air and back into the past, vanishing once more.
Through the darkness I cut, my destination surer and the distance shorter. I arrived hovering above another house, one several hundred miles from the last,
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Literature
Best be...
The individualist says "It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not."
The martyr says "It is better to be hated than to hate, to love than to be loved."
The histrionic says "It is better to be hated than ignored."
The troll says "It is better to be hated (as long as you're anonymous)."
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Literature
Immortality
Your face at the window
For one moment
And then we were in the car
Driving through the night
Faster and faster,
Blowing through limits and laws and even gravity
Our faces buffeted by wind
From windows thrown open
The music pounded and pleaded
From melancholy to soaring
Swooping up, diving down
We stopped to let the night air in
To watch the clouds and hear the voices
Of a thousand tiny companions in the overgrown grass
We drove onward, faster,
Lifted up out of reality
Transcending simple time
And for one night, we were immortal.
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Literature
Snowman
Patiently
With gloved hands and wet fists
He scooped the powdered ice
And rolled it across the ground
Building size and slowing speed
Until it rested on the ground
He then gathered another ball
And rolled it until it was
Like the first
But smaller
Then he made a head
A third ball of snow
With buttons and carrots
Then he leaned against his creation
And slept soundly and safely and not alone
The sun rose high that day
And the sky cleared
And temperatures climbed
He woke up with red cheeks
To find himself with his head
On the damp grass
His hood all soggy
The snow had vanished
Into the sky, into the ground
And once again
He was alone
Happiness melted all away.
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Literature
Secrets
Secrets are fuzzy
Closely kept companions that
Keep you warm at night
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Literature
December 21
It was December 21, the shortest day of the year. The night before in had rained, which almost never happened in December near Boston, so the snow was off the ground and the roads has drained of ice. Margot Ellerbee was on her way home from work at the McDonald's, driving through the dark. She stared at the road ahead blindly, thinking about how her stove at home was too much like the fryers at work and how she wished that she could get herself to cook because it was cheaper but she didn't ever seem to have time and so she would be going to Taco Bell. Her headlights caught a glimpse of something on the side of the road, white and rather large, but she passed by. It was probably garbage or something.
John Witherspoon had just finished a rough day at the office. Maybe it was the unseasonably warm temperatures or something, but everyone seemed out to get him today. First Rachel, his boss's secretary, had forgotten to e-mail him the memo that he was supposed to go to the meeting, and then
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Literature
Arctic Haiku
On ice, stranded seal
Newborn, cold, approaches heat
Warm, sleeping, white bear.
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Literature
Art
We dance in the rain
While the clouds of soot and smoke
Shroud the burning Earth
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Literature
Null
Black spirals of ink bleed from pages of inconsequential nothings. The words dance in lightning strikes and crooked lines, a carbon stick figure of thought, never stopping, never curving, hard angles and hard edges and hard colors. Ideas are effervescent; ephemeral are ideas. Why does the dictionary not match the mind? Why does the mind not match the dictionary? What is lost between the fluid connotation and the solid denotation? Where is the gas?
Hurly burly zinging seraphim gash fragments lying crying, sighing sadness.
The characters all lie dead in unmarked graves. The story is over because it could never begin. And now we search for organs lost, in resurrection lost still. Found is nothing; everything is now potential.
So begins; the end is past.
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Literature
A Tunnel
You're walking through a dark tunnel. You've been down it so long that you can't turn around; not any more. The sound of stones against your sneakers echoes off the walls, reverberating like a sinister didgeridoo. You are alone in the dark.
Then you see it. A light. At the end of the tunnel.
Energy flows back into your veins. You run forward –
– and trip over a wooden slat.
That's when you hear the whistle.
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Literature
Red is a Nice Color
Watch it fall.
See how it accelerated toward the ground; faster, faster it goes.
See it catch the light and sprinkle rubies.
See the trail of flighty liquid streaming behind.
See it kiss the ground, and fly into seven hundred and forty-two tinkling pieces.
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Literature
Bird
I keep a little bird
In a cage beneath my coat
With every beat of my heart
I want to let it go
And let it sing
But
Around me are a thousand people
With guns poised and ready
To shoot to kill
Anything with feathers
For the fun of it
And I know if my bird sings
I will be filled with holes
And so will my bird
So I keep silent
And hope that we will survive
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Random Favourites

Literature
A Prayer
We're feral cats with battlescars
Or paths that early end
Our grandparents are dying stars
Our secrets spice the wind
These bullets paint our inner heart
With stories lost to pain
The masters of an empty art
Remembrance keeps us sane
When daddy dearest drank again
And mommy's photos tore
You promised we were fearless men
Brave soldiers gone to war
But I believe in fairy tales
These screaming years are lies
I hope to God your words are nails
That hammer in goodbyes
We're brittle poems with punctured chests
Just brittle little words
We come from crooked dirty nests
As crooked little birds
Our novels stain the concrete walls
With ink from metal cans
We wrote of bloody sidewalk brawls
And cut-up calloused hands
We're ashes mixed in deathly snow
Fresh victims of a knife
We left our families long ago
To fight in vain for life
Our culture feeds on apathy
This taste upon my tongue
A tart design unwrapped in me
The war crimes of the young
Two boys gashed red in white debris
Two treasons left un
:iconArcaneAutumn:ArcaneAutumn
:iconarcaneautumn:ArcaneAutumn 13 11
StupidFireFox by eychanchan StupidFireFox :iconeychanchan:eychanchan 14,724 1,134 Sleeping by Akai-hana Sleeping :iconakai-hana:Akai-hana 545 73 sleeping fox by mrozny sleeping fox :iconmrozny:mrozny 549 58 Koopa Royal Family, GO by SelanPike Koopa Royal Family, GO :iconselanpike:SelanPike 308 39 God Wannabe by Light-Schizophrenia God Wannabe :iconlight-schizophrenia:Light-Schizophrenia 4,971 785 The HERO has arrived by SelanPike The HERO has arrived :iconselanpike:SelanPike 46 14
Literature
Solace
Hushed.
Thin air,
A pondering place.
Distant chirping.
A frosted window
Opens its mouth
To welcome in the world.
Hazed-over sky
Nestles in her
Crisply cut
Stratus blankets,
Safe.
Birds preen while they wait
For some child to emerge
From their
Smooth white wombs.
The wooden monoliths
Chip at permafrost with
Their shivering roots;
Branches are undressed.
Low winter sun
And pregnant moon
Share the atmosphere.
Whispering gale.
Mint leaves crawl up
the brick exterior,
Slithering inside through
Cracks in the window panes.
Their spiced wax leaves
Mingle with pages from old poetry books.
There's a loss of blood,
And the shutters blow shut.
Baby blue walls close in like
A (somewhat comforting) prison
While languid heat
Seeps in through the doorway.
Incense sticks,
Smoldering.
A withered orchid
Perched on the windowsill
Chants springtime prayers.
Ticking clock.
Shelves that smell of macchiato and
Elephant hides;
Volumes of history
Lined up like fossilized soldiers.
Gently edited love notes,
Eras
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Literature
Haiku Quintet
Glossy-eyed children
Play games in subway tunnels
Arrival is crushing
---
Inner prophecy
Bites the neck and destines men
To speak with forked tongues
---
January indoors
Rain-suffused light tickles walls
With sundial seconds
---
Harlequin princess
Sunset silk and charcoal lace
Fishbowl royalty
---
Autumn's elegy
Stirs sleeping chrysanthemums
Mourning doves fly south
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Literature
Haiku IV
A ransom deferred
Is the merchandise butcher
Blindfolded stillness
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Literature
Haiku III
Venom brewed harsh like
Ink in my blistering throat
Coughed unsweetened news
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Teen Titans Raven Commission by yuumei Teen Titans Raven Commission :iconyuumei:yuumei 12,761 968
Literature
A Roomful of Flashbacks
He stared warmly at
Long-faded chalk drawings
In the far corners of a
Dusty garage.
Memory albums filled with
Sepia butterflies and
Photographs that smelled
Like days at sea.
Collections of postcards and
Fragments of plastic seashells
Stacked in crates labeled
"Knicks" and "Knacks".
Shattered candy pieces
Of old Christmas lights
That were taken down
A bit too roughly.
Tumbleweeds of lint
And little dalmatian dominoes
Popsicle sticks and bottlecaps
A solitary gardening glove
And a few mummified leaves.
Wandering quietly in
The old backyard sandbox
That used to be home
To more than just wildflowers.
Watching pots filled with
Crisp dead geraniums
Vibrantly blossom again
Watered with wishful thinking.
He remembered scribbling
The chalk drawings below
The rafters of that garage
On a cold and rainy day
With two glasses of pomegranate juice
And a friend he used to know.
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Literature
Mom
When my words were meager
There were crickets in her chest.
She brought birthday candles
That secretly tarnished;
I left fibs under her pillows
With kisses and I.O.U.s
Made myself a human suitcase
And put sorries inside.
Now I spend sour instants
Reciting prayers in the bathtub
With our only pair of dry cheeks.
Mother is so proud.
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Fancysaurus-Rex by ArcaneAutumn Fancysaurus-Rex :iconarcaneautumn:ArcaneAutumn 2 3 Thou Shall Not Pass by alexiuss Thou Shall Not Pass :iconalexiuss:alexiuss 10,991 1,169

Activity


I'm gonna die at college doing NaNoWriMo. Or maybe just lose.

11339 words! I wish I could remember what I was talking about in my last journal entry. I could use the plot.
  • Listening to: Avalon
  • Reading: Carry Me Like Water -- Bejamin Alire Sáenz
  • Watching: People
  • Playing: Dr. T. J. Eckleberg
  • Eating: Dining hall food
  • Drinking: Water that tastes like poweraid for some reason

deviantID

Sesquipedaliaphile
Mr. Hauntingston, I presume.
United States
Oops. I need to keep friends longer...

Comments


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:iconthegreataikosama:
TheGreatAikoSAMA Featured By Owner Aug 22, 2012
You seriously still visit this place?
Well, I'm on here all the freaking time but...
Reply
:iconsesquipedaliaphile:
Sesquipedaliaphile Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2012
Not often.
Reply
:iconthegreataikosama:
TheGreatAikoSAMA Featured By Owner Dec 11, 2012
Oh, pity.
Reply
:iconthegreataiko-sama:
THEGREATAIKO-SAMA Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2011
Hey, buddy, do you have that story where the gay guy fell off a cliff?
Reply
:iconsesquipedaliaphile:
Sesquipedaliaphile Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2011
Er I prefer not to ever think of anything I wrote more than three years ago but probably.
Reply
:iconthegreataiko-sama:
THEGREATAIKO-SAMA Featured By Owner Sep 18, 2011
oh, I was requested to find it for this undisclosed person.
Reply
:iconsesquipedaliaphile:
Sesquipedaliaphile Featured By Owner Sep 19, 2011
Finding it would be a pain.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconthegreataiko-sama:
THEGREATAIKO-SAMA Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2011
You still come on this website?
Reply
:iconsesquipedaliaphile:
Sesquipedaliaphile Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2011
No, never.
Reply
:iconthegreataiko-sama:
THEGREATAIKO-SAMA Featured By Owner Jun 27, 2011
Clever.

So, did your bromance ever sort out?
Reply
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