for a long time i felt so shallow, so vapid, and dry. nothing held any glimmer, any value, or any worth or reason for glancing at for more than just the initial moment of notice. everyday was just another day, another hour, another number to count. i walked in doldrums, monotony, and despondence. life was a labor and something you did simply to ( Read more... )

my hair is dripping and wet. my coat has turned to a wet towel and it is sticking itself to my shoulders, clinging to the thick of my back. hours ago the clouds spilled over the horizon and for a moment i would swear there was a god, one with fingers to paint. light cascaded through the mounds and rich purple bled deep orange and a soft yellow ( Read more... )

does anybody read this anymore?

gather your brushes. oil will fill the pores of your hands and the prints of your fingers will outline themselves in cadmiums and ochres. it will scratch up your arms and if you are not careful it will touch your hair or stain your lips. finding its way from a tube to a palette to the tip of your chin. but do not smudge away the marks or scrape ( Read more... )

i'm just happy. i feel good and for no real reason, which sounds like the best reason of all. i'm not stressed, not sad, but actually comfortable with my life and in my own skin. seriously, that's saying something. i mean, look at this. i can sit still and smile, that big cheeky dimply smile. every friend i have has me laughing my brains out. ( Read more... )

you shouldn't be so sad. god knows you were never any good at it. you could never lower that bottom lip, but were rather talented at smiling up dimples and laughing when you should have cried. don't lie, he's was only potential and little more. a joke here, an endearing little quirk. he was but a bag full of air, taking up space but holding no ( Read more... )

we are the voice that sounds from the shadows, the thunder off the sea. we are the echo that enters from the distance and grows in volume rattling the bones in your ears, coaxing out cold sweats. when there are too many names to remember, we are there. when the numbers are too high to count, we are there. we are an army without a name. we are ( Read more... )

i'm working on my next story.

simple is the slight of hand. fingertips will slip and twitch from the truth. you will pull a rabbit from a hat, a coin from behind an ear. it seems you will soon saw me in half, for i am already in pieces over you. me in my chair, my jaw in awkward angles. it hangs, disjointed, as birds peel away from the span of your arms. "where could they have ( Read more... )

so the dust has settled and this ash can no longer kindle a flame. it has been many months since i have felt that strain on my throat, that dryness, that sting of a conversation that cuts into the night and into my heart. my words have lost their edge, their sharp syllables and maurdered meanings, but are again soft, simple, and soothing to those ( Read more... )