Explore napowrimo2015

Can you cry in space?

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Can you cry in space?

Once you venture into the jar there's no place left. Light years close in on me. Each vein restricts, the heart beats backwards, hair snaking; gasping, tears like glass beads quivering in the void around me and within, feeling my eyes bulge and bleed, turning to ruby gems with sharp angles, threading with my tears, coiling around my neck and hands, trying to fend them off. Am I in a clinical waiting room in a hell afloat, which has already seen and been the death of me. Through a portal, solar flare rotating as the capsule slowly tumbles. The only sound left: the broken static from Houston.

Printer error printed

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Printer error printed

The note was a mistake. I didn't mean to write it, but I did. Feeling no pain, nothing at all. Sleep-walking with eyes open and thoughts on hold, typing bloodied fingerprints on the keys. I hadn't planned to have you find the black and white of my lost faith lying stillborn in the paper tray.

Deadheading roses

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Deadheading roses

Watching while you work in a corner of the garden, near a cherry tree you planted years ago. Your hands, leather-clad, work the clippers that chatter with each cutting as petaled heads fall. I tremble as you slowly approach my favorite, the one that reminds me of a fine pastel wine. I've never sipped its nectar, but admired its hue of palest green in the heart of a white rose.

cara delevingne's eyebrows (nanogliimo)

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cara delevingne's eyebrows (nanogliimo)

iconography of absolution with no repent or repeal, re-peel your serpent skin with mass appeal and cinnamon spice roof space, roofie place in the roof of your narcissism. sp(l)it the piquancy of your blitzing missile emotions projectile, and plaster it over your cheekbones like fresco. your soul is a jackson pollock conglomerate, and the art is the quill of a stillborn cold war-- blood clot's mother. cold sore, you've been doing this too much and you're not a model, not a one-hundred cara(t) diamond or even a loose hair on the curtain of a givenchy sneer. drum.

Tsubasa (Wings)

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Tsubasa (Wings)

ウイングス Leaves fall from the sky unburdened of loyalty. Drift away dead dreams

cyanus diadem (#2)

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cyanus diadem (#2)

cornflower mood with the confidence to cope with fair weather featherweight hues of happiness. harlequin shades of the same face, it's all blue when it's fresh or when it's a storm-torn sea shell with remnants of sky pigments powdering its curves.

When seasons belie intent

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When seasons belie intent

touch lightning rain on me, endlessly changing the key of my song right and left, write or wrong tangled in the cord of a phone sympathetic, telepathic seeing you before you do seeing me before I do turbulent experiment free falling without consent a harsh killing, and so willing smooth as silk the rush(ian) flow

Huntress

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Huntress

When did it start, and where did it come from before my own existence, gender not withstanding. The freshly minted self defied carbon dating, while shadows paced in circles, recalling the newly born legend with an old soul, lis'ning for the piercing cry of carrion birds. I remember other times, when deserts were seas filled with whales, turning to cliffs of bone rising from racing trails of dust, pulling down what was mine to carry me 'till the next chase when nature's way was my DNA, not the will of those after me, their scratchings set in stele. I was unbowed and instinctive through many of life's brief returns, stalking the se
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