I only pray As the wheels of the plane Lift off the ground. It isn't that I don't believe in God; I don't. That's not the point. It is the appearance of comfort. The quickening unease coils in my stomach, Banished from my body as I repeat well-worn words. They're scars written behind my eyelids,… Continue reading In the Clouds
There was a girl who was not nice. Her hair was unruly and her eyes were wicked. Her favorite phrase was a dirty one. She threw words just as she threw daggers-- Straight into people's hearts. That was her best trick.
I had a friend who listened to me; she listened so much that she didn't hear me ask about herself. She kept her arms and ears open, but not to the extent to which I could reach out and pull her into myself. I wanted to save her, she only wanted to save me, and… Continue reading I Had A Friend
I confess: I do not know you anymore. Oh, I think I do. My mind hints at what you would say, or how you would say it. But truth be told, we're worlds away. And for the most part, that's fine by me. Of course, I've excluded the pangs that wrap around my lungs and squeeze. I… Continue reading
It interests me This concept of Santa Claus Putting children into two categories: Naughty or nice. Never both, or neither; Polar opposites to which we Have to adhere, for fear of An absence of materialistic ideals.Give me coal, Give me saddened hearts and Icy blood, a sick reaction to the Dichotomy by which our society… Continue reading Santa Claus
It woos women uses force takes prisoners. It smears itself in cream-colored paint, lies down with sweet-smelling blossoms, and begs to be picked like the roses it sways next to. Unlike roses, this has no thorns, it roosts in a glass vase cultivating its escape wondering when it'll be needed again. Cream turns to blood,… Continue reading Flowery Language
There's the idea that you spendyour life searching for one personwho makes you feel alivewith magic and flourish and fireworks.Ah, the fireworks. The so-called bursts ofcolor that kill themselves in front of closedeyes, when your blood sings and breathhalts, the flames twist blues and greensand golds; such a fantasy they are.