sorry you have to see this twice, but it'd get lost in my regular journal so it goes here also;

[fora_da_poeira]

death of an illusionshe walks through the sparkling fog of the dream she made herself believe for so long. she walks and she walks and when she comes to the end of the dream there is only darkness. the darkness is of a kind never manifested by nature but only by the mind when it simply runs out of reasons to believe it. and this darkness is opaque

Comments

[autumnsea]

this conversational style of writing appeals to me as I can walk through the thoughts of the writer. I could imagine myself walking as the 'she' in this story. I have written a similar thing and posted it in two communities: gothicpoetry and wordsmithy, and it runs with the image of blood over and again: http://www.livejournal.com/community/wordsmithy/38910.html

you do capture reality and feelings very well.

[fora_da_poeira]

i read it your piece, and i must say it is amazing. my imagination is very visual, i definitely see what i write and what i read as moving images rather than just words on a page. and with your blood story, i could picture her. i imagined that she had been wronged, very wronged, and that she had slit her own throat in order to not only kill herself but to make a big bloody mess in the process. something of a bloody revenge. morbid, yes, but that's what i saw. very powerful images.

for my piece, i was channeling jen. it is about her, actually. it's a metaphorical walk, but a walk nonetheless, and in my head she wanders through a very dark, misty place. it's hard to describe but... it's a very beautiful scene, although sad. if only i could draw or paint or something to convey the visual that always accompanies my writing, more than i can with my words.

when i read this now i feel like i should do more with it, but i don't know what. i can't bring back the emotions i had when i wrote it. urgh. i hate that there are limits to my