I went up to Mariah's room to hang out for a while today, and the entire time that I was there I found myself simply watching her-- studying the brown sugar shade of her skin and how her shirt was loose over the cleft of her breasts, the strange honey dark color of her eyes (not like Jew's, hers are lighter) , her high-pitched voice and the ( Read more... )

it's happening again ( Read more... )

i don't know much about who he is or what he is, and my head is unraveling at breakneck speed until little more than sand and aching and sentiment.
so i'm wandering through his mind, exploring the waves that pass between his ears with tentative fingers: i'm sitting on my dorm bed, and his last.fm library is playing. i won't change any songs and I ( Read more... )

maybe I'm nothing special at all, after all ( Read more... )

1. Dr. Hrincevich has made me fall in love with biology all over again in the space of ONE lecture. I had forgotten how much I love understanding what my body does and how and why and what happens when you introduce this thing or that into its processes or take this thing or that away from it. There is so much to know and question and understand ( Read more... )

late afternoon sunlight stripes my arms, the sheets, the dirty tiled floor (i really need to buy a broom), evidence of the past week's diet: oreos and peanut butter sandwiches and doritos, apple seeds, the wrapper from a nutrigrain bar. this weekend i will collect enough coins to wash clothes and i'll clean up the room the way i always do when this ( Read more... )

when i orgasm i make strange soft whimpering noises that burst from the spaces between fingers clamped hard against my lips ( Read more... )

hunger comes in so many forms.

the clawing burn in my gut as i curl up on this bed, these sheets rough with their newness undiluted by copious amounts of downy, folding myself up as small as i can to close my eyes and sink deep beneath my skin, beneath muscle and bone to where i can hear each thudding beat of my heart, each soft caged-animal snarl ( Read more... )

dear kimyetta ( Read more... )

the first day of school never fails to render me a paranoid crablike creature, furled in corners and desks, claw-hands digging into the sides of my laptop, my notebooks, my face, a book, anything to hold onto some semblance of being grounded into place amidst a constantly shifting sea of bodies and voices and personalities each bigger and more real ( Read more... )