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non compos mentis
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still between being

s

still between being

i’m still between being a girl& not trying to be a woman/not needing to be begging to be though;with too much love riding on me as a “young lady” but drinks all around.because i spent the handfuls of dimes on cigarettes (that’s what makes me a child,)and the $100 on other peoples’ plates (making me a friend). but (really) it was three years’ dedication because commitment makes me a woman,but too bad i can’t commit to something that doesn’t kill me;it doesn’t make me stronger, i don’t try anymore&i am not a child i am devoted to you can’t help me because stop helping me —&

runes

r

runes

5/9 i am not beautiful because i cannot even freeze a flickering glimpse of my own sun hidden behind the sky’s hands because a stack of paper pushes me off a precipice, tells me to find a job, instead drives me to say, love, i want to make you pancakes walking down to winter street like it isn’t even spring time and all the pink petals already fell and dead cats covered them, because everything already rots and we haven’t even thrown the month of may into the garbage every year i don’t drink and i crash handfuls of aeroplanes into your front lawn. they’re not cars but i can dream about slamming my brakes into

untitled

u

untitled

It was summer. The landscape appeared to be a purposive manifestation of a child's playtime tantrum; a disorderly yet calculated assortment of smears and streaks across the sky, a cultivation of hap-hazardously placed mango trees; in every pond there were clumps of lily- pads which permitted cascades of tiny frogs, each one producing iridescent sprinklings as they jumped through the air and into the water, and upon each forest trail laid the remnants of paw prints and hooves, residue from journeys of wayfarers long since gone. The land's field mice and rabbits rested in any given patch of pastoral earth, chewing and burrowing with the intent

to my love

t

to my love

let me rest my face on your back and my words will seep into you and your ribcage will feel stronger and your heart will swell. when you hear what i have to say about you, you will feel love. so let me rest my face on your back, and i will let you love me.

Oblique

O

Oblique

I keep my eyes out of love. "To feel and hear with greater accuracy, we must be blind," but that is not why I chose to count the number of flowers on the wall when you were breathing into my ear. To deserve is to give, and how can I deserve something so holy (love) if I cannot acknowledge its mumbling core; I would sooner find myself deciphering patterns in fences, or fresh paint jobs, than be consumed in an eye consumed with me. I am cruel and unfair and will not fall in love, and I beg of you, please: do not fall in love with me.

tiptoe

t

tiptoe

trying to kiss me while tripping your toes on my window sill makes too much NOISE. at 3 in the morning so shut your mouth and get under the blankets and pretend to sleep (the only thing we haven't done) why can't two people just breathe/breathe/breathe together without the GASP. in between the stroking touching trembling shaking of what we called— .. love? careful isn't caring when caution only means we'll just be quiet and YES. do it for the person you think i am thought i was we don't have to okay if you really need it yes please.
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still between being

s

still between being

i’m still between being a girl& not trying to be a woman/not needing to be begging to be though;with too much love riding on me as a “young lady” but drinks all around.because i spent the handfuls of dimes on cigarettes (that’s what makes me a child,)and the $100 on other peoples’ plates (making me a friend). but (really) it was three years’ dedication because commitment makes me a woman,but too bad i can’t commit to something that doesn’t kill me;it doesn’t make me stronger, i don’t try anymore&i am not a child i am devoted to you can’t help me because stop helping me —&

runes

r

runes

5/9 i am not beautiful because i cannot even freeze a flickering glimpse of my own sun hidden behind the sky’s hands because a stack of paper pushes me off a precipice, tells me to find a job, instead drives me to say, love, i want to make you pancakes walking down to winter street like it isn’t even spring time and all the pink petals already fell and dead cats covered them, because everything already rots and we haven’t even thrown the month of may into the garbage every year i don’t drink and i crash handfuls of aeroplanes into your front lawn. they’re not cars but i can dream about slamming my brakes into

untitled

u

untitled

It was summer. The landscape appeared to be a purposive manifestation of a child's playtime tantrum; a disorderly yet calculated assortment of smears and streaks across the sky, a cultivation of hap-hazardously placed mango trees; in every pond there were clumps of lily- pads which permitted cascades of tiny frogs, each one producing iridescent sprinklings as they jumped through the air and into the water, and upon each forest trail laid the remnants of paw prints and hooves, residue from journeys of wayfarers long since gone. The land's field mice and rabbits rested in any given patch of pastoral earth, chewing and burrowing with the intent

to my love

t

to my love

let me rest my face on your back and my words will seep into you and your ribcage will feel stronger and your heart will swell. when you hear what i have to say about you, you will feel love. so let me rest my face on your back, and i will let you love me.

Oblique

O

Oblique

I keep my eyes out of love. "To feel and hear with greater accuracy, we must be blind," but that is not why I chose to count the number of flowers on the wall when you were breathing into my ear. To deserve is to give, and how can I deserve something so holy (love) if I cannot acknowledge its mumbling core; I would sooner find myself deciphering patterns in fences, or fresh paint jobs, than be consumed in an eye consumed with me. I am cruel and unfair and will not fall in love, and I beg of you, please: do not fall in love with me.

tiptoe

t

tiptoe

trying to kiss me while tripping your toes on my window sill makes too much NOISE. at 3 in the morning so shut your mouth and get under the blankets and pretend to sleep (the only thing we haven't done) why can't two people just breathe/breathe/breathe together without the GASP. in between the stroking touching trembling shaking of what we called— .. love? careful isn't caring when caution only means we'll just be quiet and YES. do it for the person you think i am thought i was we don't have to okay if you really need it yes please.

Chapter Critique #1

Chapter Critique #1

For some time now, I've had the idea that I would go through the novel "Memoirs of a Geisha" chapter by chapter and note the inaccuracies within it.  The reason why is because of the sheer number of people (probably in the tens of millions worldwide) who believe the book is anywhere from mostly accurate to consistently accurate.  These people treat the book as a legitimate reference material concerning geisha, and I want to show them that this is a bad idea.  I don't believe novels should be treated as factual reference material in general, but this in particular is a practice I dislike because "Memoirs of a Geisha" is not even fifty percent

How To Say Goodbye

H

How To Say Goodbye

Dear Unborn Child, Whom I Let Go; When I was thirteen and four months old, and you were thirteen years younger, I decided to let you go. You squirmed in opposition beneath my ribcage, up against my pelvis, and I licked my lips and tried to smile while I leaned my forehead on the cool glass of the car, hellbound. I remember sea weed insertion, dilation, cramps and bleeding. Orange smoothies from Dairy Queen that I threw up, and I hoped you were mingling in the remains of my summer day treat, so I could put this behind me. Pretend I was 'moving on'. I laid in the bathtub of a hotel room for six hours, trying to melt you away in scalding water
8Comments

Spotlight

a piacere

2Comments
Artist
Badges
Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (24)
My Bio
You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

Favourite style of art: Visual/audible
Personal Quote: "Moja bieda."

Favourite Visual Artist
Suffice it to say my favorite painting is "Lady Godiva" by John Collier.
Favourite Movies
Please Save My Earth (technically, it's an OVA.)
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
The Who
Favourite Writers
Bob Dylan/Paul Simon
Tools of the Trade
a painstakingly finicky sense of humor. (I always carry a pen with me.)
Other Interests
I like to hate on Myspace profiles from middle school.

joo-n/lie and other things

joo-n/lie and other things

so, june's behind us; july is upon us; summer's here, etc. i need some books to read. (i'm in a production of sweeney todd and it is fabulous and i'm going to see harry potter at midnight next week and i'm dressing up and it's going to be fantastic and i've been getting home after midnight every night this week and that has been exciting) summer of 2011 book list (so far): The Princess Bride by William Goldman The Shining by Stephen King Room by Emma Donoghue Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer anything written by Carl Sagan Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger A Streetc

from the notebooks of F. Scott Fitzgerald

from the notebooks of F. Scott Fitzgerald

76. In utter weariness he asked her once in different words, "Then where do you go from here—where do you turn?"    "Toward life," she said "Toward life," and turned toward him.    247. The lights of many battleships drifting like water jewels upon the dark Hudson.    520. A girl who could send tear-stained telegrams.    537. Emily, who was twenty-five and carried space around with her into which he could step and be alone with their two selves.    687. Family like the last candies left in a dish.    903. As if heart and brain had been removed and were kept in a canopic vase.    1024. Resent the attempt of the boys and girl

the story of waldeinsamkeit

the story of waldeinsamkeit

(like that Kanye West song, which, in actuality, is a Bon Iver song) hi hi hi hi hi hi hi beautifuls, i hope you're all well/basking in the cheer of the fast-approaching holidays super perfundo on the early eve of your day

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theamazinglizardStudent Digital Artist
thanks for the fav!
JennGaboriaultStudent General Artist
Thanks for watching!
oh thank you for the watch :]
ma cherie, ma petite douce fille, je t'aime; vas-tu a ton tumblr
dulces sueños mi amor