falling in number but still clad in obfuscations
like a second skin,
were finally coerced to concede that even they
could not explore death
like a foreign country.
teenage lover's lamentI wish we were adultsteenage lover's lament by consolecadet
so that you could come over
and sit and watch as I did boring paperwork for my boring job
So that you could microwave yourself dinner
from the leftovers in my fridge
So that we could make love without hurry
and you could spend the night.
Noticed in CommittingI started committing suicides. They were small at first, but more grandiose as the months passed.Noticed in Committing by enigmaticsmile
At first, I came up with basics: wrist slashing, hanging, overdose, jumping off a building, and stepping off in front of bus. They were all very mundane, really, and if not done properly you just end up living very, very painfully. It was after those routine ways to snuff oneself that I began to get creative.
There was going into a biker bar nude and starting fights with drunk bikers. And when I say "fights", I mean with a knife in my hand. That was a fun night. Everyone was freaked out and angry at the same time. They all wanted to kill me, but they didn't want to touch me either. Eventually, though, they did.
Oh, another good one was sneaking into one of those giant dump trucks at a quarry and letting them dump tons of excavated rocks on me. The driver of the loader always sees you just as it's too late and tries to stop the load.
LateSammy paced.Late by monstroooo
This had never happened before. And tonight, of all nights! He glanced at the clock, grimaced, and paced some more. Where was he?
Behind the curtain, he heard the chatter of the crowd, the beat of the music.
Marv the Magnificent, the "compere extraordinaire", strode up to Sammy and gave him a questioning look. Sammy answered with a shrug. Marv looked at his watch, wiped his brow, sipped from a tin hip-flask.
"It's now or never, Sam. Do or die. I believe you can do this on your own - but he'll be here yet."
Seeing the fear in his star attraction's eyes, Marv put a hand on Sammy's shoulder. "He'll be here yet", he repeated.
Marv swept out onto the stage. The lights - those oh-so-important lights - flared and blazed. The audience roared. Marv did his thing. Sammy listened nervously, jealously. Marv could perform alone; but he couldn't.
Sammy glanced around once more. He walked in front of a spotlight. Nothing. He swept his majestic cape. Nothing. M
other people's heartbreakfifteen year old father,other people's heartbreak by consolecadet
and he can't uncrumple the dollar bills for the automatic teller machine
where the bamboo walls
girls veiled in smoke,
thin-strap tank tops
the click and hiss of a soda can
she miscarries in the basement on a hot summer night,
the dregs of her uncle's offspring draining from her in hemorrhagic spurts,
her fingers bruising on the unsheeted mattress
mom and pop wake to a phone call from the county coroner
he is blue from the lake water and green from the nausea
and grandma knits afghans, over
AD - Swan Song Part 3Cris hits the ground in a crouch, palm biting into asphalt with the impact of the fall. He pushes himself up and wipes grit off his hand as the helicopter descends behind him, slowly easing down to land.AD - Swan Song Part 3 by Laitma
He pulls the gun out with his right hand, thumbs off the safety of the Jericho as he steps through the shattered glass and twisted beams of the blast site, more glass still tinkling down from above. It smells of ozone and smoked asphalt, with that taste of acid rain on the edge of the tongue. He steps around a mess of rubble, metal and concrete, through the ruin of a near-empty floor. It's dim inside, but he doesn't bother waiting for his eyes to adjust--he can hear it, knows just where the angel is, loud-ass fucker that it is.
A scream, a screech, a keen, a curse--whatever the fuck you want to call it, Cris doesn't care. He just wants it to shut the fuck up.
He hears a different kind of screech,
Drowning in Reversex. I still have your phone.Drowning in Reverse by SilverInkblot
ix. The boardwalk carnival was shut down a few months later, roped off and boarded up like a condemnation of joy. The ferris wheel still rose high above the skyline, towering in silent reminder.
viii. The funeral was on a beautiful, balmy, sunny day and somehow that made it all the worse. The wind would pick up a little and ruffle your goldspun hair and I could hope, just for a moment, that you were still here.
vii. It was a cold, white room. I don't know why hospitals are so cold. Or maybe it was just me - maybe it was just me trying to siphon out all of my warmth and channel it into you.
vi. I didn't see the crowd that gathered on the beach - I barely registered the flash of red and blue lights - I only saw you, skin pale as the stretcher they were loading you on to, blue shirt stained black like a death sigil.
v. Someone was drowning. You cast an arm out pointing - there was someone out there in the dark water drifting further and further from shore.
Away from NeverNeverLandMoney is dirty. Leaves invisible yuck on a person; stains fingers, smears over skin and catches under nails. Festers. And then hands turn into pincers to take and eyes small greedy and black. Skin hardens to bounce back ugly words and back curves under weight of things. Lobsters, fat and red.Away from NeverNeverLand by EvilpixieA
Marriage is scrubbed. Clean and pretend. Perfect white dresses and kisses put and planted. Brides march and grooms promise so hard. Military of gowns with bow tie generals. An army of high heels and flowers landed in laps. Marriage spreads. Infects. Zombiefying disease. Shuffle, I do, brains.
Driving is fickle. Slide into each other, through each other. Blood and bits go with them. People cry over tombs and insurance papers. Or nothing. Home again, uneventful day. Locked behind wheel, over tarmac, lights suspended like vultures above. Danger, danger. Promise of convenience. Thrill. Like riding a shark.
Work is uniformed. Slotted, easy, organized files. Tags meaning le
Living AnticipationWhat she craved was hunger. It took a semester for me to learn that.Living Anticipation by enigmaticsmile
She was an exchange student from Italy, a college sophomore, and I was a grad student assisting her ESL class. The class was mandatory her first semester in the States, but she didn't need it. She didn't need a tutor, either.
So, we were lovers.
Every Wednesday, in my far away apartment in Brooklyn, we met and made. Every Wednesday, she would arrive on the N train from Manhattan and let herself in. I left the door unlocked all day, because she would never give me a time. Answering her phone was her lowest priority. All the world could wait for her, it seemed to me.
When she arrived, it was always with a kiss. There were hardly any words at first, just her on her toes and me leaning down to meet her. She was 5 foot tall and all of nothing in weight, and never would I call her beautiful. She was pretty: olive skin and brown hair on youthful frame. Her ac
waking-cat's morning reflectionyyyyywaking-cat's morning reflection by Adagiobunny
-ning to wake up
click, clicki will make my unapologies--click, click by disrhythmic
mark my skin in the patterns on prey animals.
i will hide but i will not stand transfixed,
and neither run:
lemmings are an urban myth,
letter to a little me1. these are the anniversaries that will stay with you,letter to a little me by disrhythmic
for better or worse:
things go up in december, as if the coming of a new year
gives the old one a kick in the pants.
look forward to decembers.
time likes to tie weights to your collarbones with silk ribbons.
right now i am two years into a subdued grief,
five years into a wild regret. but don't be scared;
just as many feathers balance out the iron.
i am three years into something truly
2. you will get better. the words on the page will eventually
come a bit closer to the pictures in your head.
by the way, you think in pictures--you don't see that now,
but look for it. use it to your advantage.
stop with the heavy moralizing. you try too hard.
you will abandon false modesty and snobbishness,
as you will find out that they are not attractive qualities.
you will, however, trade them in for navelgazing
and perhaps a bit of haughtiness and pre
4 Traits of a Damn Good Boyi. drive4 Traits of a Damn Good Boy by disrhythmic
buddy, you were a throwback. you had a lot of wolf in you,
a feral soul.
i hope heaven has eased the stiffness in your joints
and brushed the gray from your fur
and left you sleek and gorgeous,
a solid pack of muscle with the kind of determination
that can never be taught.
i hope there are lizards for you to chase,
doves for you to launch yourself after
and catch out of the air with a finesse that would make professionals weep.
buddy, i hope someone's up there throwing a stick for you every now and then.
i hope you give 'em hell when they want it back.
buddy, it seemed like the world was a very scary place for you.
i'm not sure why,
and maybe i laughed at you a little--
at the neurotic puppy inhabiting the commanding form
of a hunter--
and sometimes i got angry at you
and your insistence that the world was out to get you
and i'm sorry for that.
it took me years to realize that something must have happened
to plant a deep and unshakeable fear
voidmaybe all life isvoid by disrhythmic
is a swift and sudden shout
into the deep emptiness of a dead ocean--
you find someone to harmonize with.
I am continually surprised, humbled, and honored that people enjoy my writing. <3
The WeekendI show up unannounced, like clockwork, and when you let me in, the act of opening the door flows smoothly into the act of pulling me against you. This is our weekend. We won't leave this room for another forty-eight hours.
The FountainThere were sixteen tall windows. She'd counted them over and over when she was small, her chubby finger outstretched as she spun in tiny circles. Eight walls, sixteen windows, thirty-two black curtainsthe arithmetic of her childhood.
SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.
PilkunnussijaHere's what I think:
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.
StringsNatalia was, blatantly, a pianist. It was impossible for her to have been anything else. She had this liquid grace about her that whispered sonatas and nocturnes and moody Beethoven. She'd sit at the piano in the college music room, rocking slowly back and forth and making a waltz rumble deep within its wooden body. Her fingers were long but her nails were always cut short so they wouldn't click against the keys, and her hair, long and smooth, was always pulled back into a big, soft braid.
SyracuseAnd the sea rolls on and on and on and I can hear your song calling to me across the waves and waves and waves. This boat is my coffin, the tides my pallbearers, the seagulls my mourners, and your song my requiemand there are better, faster, simpler ways to die. I could be swallowed up, and down and down and down, with the merciless weight of the sea on my breastbone and the current throbbing in my ears and sinking and sinking and sinking with your song following me all
Moon Eye Fire Eye Sit
ConversationAnd I've been telling you, you know, how heavy the sun feels and how it makes my muscles jump like a bird's wings as it flutters gently down on a windowsill. I still have those glass bottles on my mantle where the morning light hits themstill there, full of colored water and seashells. And maybe I'll tell you how they light up the ceiling in blue and green and pale yellow just like they always have, like nothing ever changed.
A Love Story in Four Actsi.
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you?
the beauty's in the leavingRead aloud here.
you need to have a plan...so here's to
three dogs in the churchyardThe chain link around the graveyard runs straight through an oak tree. The bark looks crippled where it passed through the wire--mutilated in a faint diamond pattern--but you can see around the edges where it's fusing together smooth again.
waking upand imagine my surprise