for markFor Mark. (Ode.)for mark
In the dull morning light, naked, but not profane, left to the scrutiny of the world but indifferent to their opinion. He sits under the clouds like some beacon in the dark with his graceful feline pose his unassuming honesty his blatant and earnest eyes… And we fall into each other. Our bodies, so bent and broken; we, the soldiers of misfortune,
the bastards of life’s cruel mistress— yet our dents fit together so perfectly. I find something in his bruises that are absent in my own. A strength, a resilience, a w
herenowHere/Nowherenow
you are here here tasting the sweet smell of sunshine, reveling in the bliss, and the fleeting moments give ‘now’ a acute sense of urgency
you are here and here is disappearing; steal what you can there’s beauty for the taking while you are here
you are here a fortunate withdrawal of random factors something you used to strive for… a little piece of happiness and a violet-bruised sky
you are here on the cusp between the new and old contemplating how inconsequential life can seem when you
conversations with ghostsCONVERSATIONS WITH GHOSTSconversations with ghosts
I don't know where you found me. I haven't been here in a lifetime... and even then, I was too far-gone for this incoherent conversation. I can't see your voice anymore, but when I heard your face it touched my very being. I wish I could see you through this rain. It hasn't given up in years, you know. Even when the sun was shining and there were no clouds in the sky, I felt a light mist. Who did you say you were again? I can almost see your name, but--
Tell me something. When we fell down here, were we together? Did I love you? Did you say the same thing back? Were you the one wh
RisingTayla is dancing. It's nothing much, it may not seem like anything at all to the passerby, but Tayla's dancing and that's everything in the world to me. So come on, sit with me. Watch her twirl and slip her arms. Come sit and I'll tell you a story. Once upon a time, not long ago but certainly in a galaxy far far away there was a little girl. She lived. She lived in a house with little orange shutters and a bright yellow door. She lived with a mother and a father who loved each other very much. Loved her very much. &nbsRising
you are gone, the room is blueIt is so cold now, I feel like I am drowning. As my hands draw up rawness erupts. The smell of blood and medicine. Strangers walk in. One puts a hand on my forehead and leans me down.you are gone, the room is blue
They have left, left the door open. Yellow light pours into a solid wedge. It is not here. My flashlight is in the car. I cannot taste anything. I am waiting.
We would row out in boats at night, across tipping fields of melted glass, bouncing upright. We are segments of families sitting buoyant, in foam and fiberglass. We would chase each other around and around. Push, scream, and then grab hands before almost falling, being swallowed
36 degrees
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we reinvent the dawn
and no-one style compares
those neon eyes make mom and dad think that we lost our minds
they're just terrified of all new things.
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we reinvent the dawn
and no-one style compares
those neon eyes make mom and dad think that we lost our minds
they're just terrified of all new things.
as for recommending my writing... it all depends on how okay you are with homosexuality. if it's not a problem whatsoever, then i suggest you read 'optimistic', my featured piece.
if you're a bit iffy, then you should definitely read 'the day the world went away', or 'a different shade of green'. actually, those two are excellent, too. even if you DO like gayness.
(sorry! i know it seems lazy of me to not put the links to those stories, but i have yet to figure out how to do that! tutorial, anyone?!)
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demon eyes are flatulent in their ability to predict trajectory within a radius of 6.3 decagrams. you cannot sedate all the things you hate. we are meant to never sever--eternal and unstoppable. the great divide that should have never swallowed.
Will comment laters of your suggested reads.
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we reinvent the dawn
and no-one style compares
those neon eyes make mom and dad think that we lost our minds
they're just terrified of all new things.
You're a really wonderful writer, and I shall stalk you now, 'cause I'm far to scatterbrained.
So.
There.
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For I love with a love that is more than a love!
Might I call you Annabel Lee?
But you're not a child and I'm not a child
And it's quite a long ways to the sea.
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