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A Spark of Light, Extinguishing
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Nowhere
We’re standing in 100-degree heat; a denim skirt hugs her thighs and a spaghetti strap droops from her shoulder. She leans against the tail gate of the pickup and looks at her cell.   "Got a signal?" I ask. She shakes her head. She walks around, her too-large cowboy boots clunking on the asphalt and holds up her phone, cursing God, me, AT&T and the whole state of West Virginia. But not herself, oh no. Never mind those rum and Cokes, those four hours of sleep, her lead foot or short attention span— that tree hit her. I don't say a word. Arms crossed, squinting against the glare of the sun, I think of the ways I c
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Perpetual Exhaustion
Thoughts burst to life as eyes close to sleep; the morning greets a deadened mind.
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Bulimic Valentine
She’s in the bathroom, the only place she remains for any length of time when she’s home, wearing a red dress and slumping over the toilet. I peer inside the bowl, still un-flushed. It’s like a glimpse into her body, the contents a parting gift. Happy Valentine’s Day, I say to her pallid face. She pulls herself to her feet, trembling and ill, shuffles to the mirror, runs a fine-toothed comb through her thinning hair, and scrubs the vomit from her teeth with an overused toothbrush. She applies chapstick to her split lips, and blows a kiss at her reflection. Her eyes find mine and she gazes until I have no
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Wonder Woman
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Jessica Jones
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Norman Bates
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Of Suicides and Sunsets
I recognized his newsprint face between the World War II vet and the cancer patient. Yesterday he passed me by, his expression as grey as the city block, and I wondered who he was for half a thought before admiring the sun, resting red between the mountains. I contemplated verbal possibilities, drawing his attention to the sky in the hopes of seeing some of the color reflected in his eyes. But like the space between footsteps, I was silent. My lack of words is found in a paragraph expressing visiting times and floral donations, and I find myself reading between the black and white, because "unexpected passing" tastes
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Miracle
You were blinking in morse code, something along the lines of "I need help and I don't know how to cry." And you said it wasn't the first time, but that he'd never actually said... he'd never actually... he didn't ever put it like this. He He He He wanted out, and maybe finding different homes was a metaphor for loading an imaginary bullet in that nonexistent gun, that he swore he'd use if he didn't... if he didn't love you so much. You, the steadfast second son, you the last handhold, you were the twenty year old parent to a fifty year old child who lives hand to bottle bottle to mouth starting at eight in the mornin
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Schrodinger
We exist “before” and “after.” Air—breath before lungs. Red; a shade without meaning, a symbol with context granted. Loved ones are believed alive, until otherwise stated. We are uncomfortable waiting, caught in who we were, knowing later we are someone else— We squirm at being left in the ellipsis. Ignorance is bliss, Knowledge is power, no cliche I know addresses the vacuum between.
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The Memory of Place
Move-out is a wake for a place, lingering on the light-switch, closure when the door shuts. We live through our haunting, reminiscent, and when we leave our ghosts are gone. Unmourned spaces grab, sobbing, the hems of our shirts. They tear their memories in grief, replaying scraps of time, recollective, inane moments only walls and thresholds treasure. His fingerprints turned my windows to stained glass, She dreamt with her cheek pressed to the table, my floors are bowed with their footsteps laden with conversation and they don't love me enough to come back. Maybe ghosts are only dreams of broken places, clinging hard to any semblan
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Soft Goodnight
Turn to the window-- lilac fills the sill in your dreaming. Fade quiet toward eventide-- stars will be caught in the velvet as it wanders up from the sea. Breathe in the dusk like a whisper, softly, slow, in twilit tones. You'll find my consciousness tangled in your fingers, keeping me by.
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The Ghost Soldier
My mother used to work as a nurse in the Air Force, many years ago, and early on in her career she got stationed at a base hospital overseas. Although the hospital had been in operation for over a century, more than half of the original building was less than half that age when my mother came to work there. Bombings during some past war had torn the place apart, creating a clear division between the old and the new. The new sections of the hospital, for example, had well-lit hallways, smooth tiled floors, and the latest medical equipment. Meanwhile, the older sections of the hospital… held shadows from the past. My mother heard about
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Cersei Lannister
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Dexter Morgan 1
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Elsa Cosplay
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Carrie cosplay
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Music Meme
Apparently there’s this 30-day music challenge where every day for 30 days, somewhere online, you post a song that meets the following criteria. A lot of people were doing it on Spotify, but people were doing it elsewhere also. A friend of mine posted it on Facebook, which is where I got it. Instead of doing one a day, I decided to give a list. :D There’s only one rule: You can’t use the same song twice. You can use the same band or singer, but not the same song. So if there’s a song that makes you happy and makes you want to dance, you have to pick which criterion you want to use it for and pick a different song for t
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11 Struggles of Being A Deep Thinker
This article hit me between the eyes. It's my struggle 100%. https://www.learning-mind.com/being-a-deep-thinker-struggles/?fbclid=IwAR261aYP86BX8WB943IR-u9JSNjNb6xlXJX50zgEjFObM6lP2RNq-BIPxrw
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I went to the Titanic museum!
I went to the Titanic museum this past weekend and really enjoyed it. I highly recommend it for anyone who is interested and/or able to go. It’s very informative. The people who put it together definitely did so with an eye for accuracy. It hits you emotionally too. There was a room with three boards, one naming the first class passengers, one naming the second class passengers, and one naming the third class passengers. The names were separated by who survived and who didn't, and each name had an age next to it in parentheses. When you see those names... it hurts.  This wasn't just a luxurious boat that hit an iceberg and sank. Over 1,
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YouInventedMe's avatar
Thank you for the :+fav: on inspection.
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YouInventedMe's avatar
Thank you for the :+fav: on for what it's worth. <3
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Lissomer's avatar
Lissomer|Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favourites c:
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TheEmptyChest's avatar
You're very welcome, dear! :heart:
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glasslinger's avatar
glasslinger|Professional Artisan Crafter
Cool work here RM! Have a great finish to your week..:-)..
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TheEmptyChest's avatar
Thank you so much! :D You too!
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thesquareroot's avatar
thanks for the fave :peace:
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