oneword: few

i'm sure that someone out there would start off with "few people know how to love, how to be kind to one another, how to *insert your own fucking mindless cliche about how we are SUPPOSED to be*...."

but those reek with undertones of optimism. the hope that someone, somewhere out there has their shit together. and right now, i'd much rather tell you that too few people even ACT like people anymore...which makes me a hypocrite. because, yes, i am suggesting that there is still some good out there.

that's the problem with "few." you keep plugging along, hoping someone will change your mind.

oneword: few

few have really seen these words. read them. bothered to figure out what any of the vagueness is referring to. my underbelly is pink and plush, full of secret loves, hopes and dreams that i am too afraid to share with most. because most just blow them off.

maybe they are too scared too.

oneword: aisle

all eyes on me. step, together. step, together. "isn't this what you've wanted, what you've dreamed about your entire life?"

but his face is blank and i want to run. i am boxed in by their wall of smiles, pushed ever closer to a stranger who i am supposed to accept is the ONE.

the one time i inserted a face, a smiling, crying, happy groom...yes, all just an empty dream.

and the bells? they sound like a dirge.

oneword: plus

plus-sized, big fat bloated eyes ready for juicing, squeezing love and life and moments of gazing at me. reflections of intentions i have dance around those laugh lines you smirk away carelessly. you ask me how my song goes. truth is, i already knew the words... but not the melody. at least, not until you played it for me.

oneword: mystery

how is it that we are back here again? how is it that no matter how far i push or pull or bend or break, it all comes back to this. this same room. this same internet window. is this home? or is this just my holding pad? what is it that will finally stick? what is it that i have been waiting for?

oneword: chase

knew this guy. good egg, that one. lazy as the day is long. still. a good guy. he went and lost his mind on the drugs you know. chasing the dragon. said he could quit anytime. i told him to prove it but he only gave me that little smile. last time i saw him he was a cage. not jail. that would have been much better. he was in a cage being sold as a sex toy.

ghost

naked angels

i'm rearranging and i don't say anything anymore. remember when we used to rail and rant and rave against everything. we were rage before there was a machine. we lamented broken hearts, false smiles, and restrictions heaped upon us by "The Powers That Be."

remember?

and now, what? our jobs. new people. new places. it's hard to stay in touch, stay together, stay integrated, but we've tried because naked angels forever. but we're all on our own adventures now with everything that is not one another.

what do you say, angels? one last farewell ride? one last grand adventure?

this morning i sat watching the sun rise to my own beating heart.



ghost

attendance?

the computer that i am using @ work has this pink index card with "attendance?" written on it. it's there to remind the teacher that i am subbing for to turn in their attendance report for that day.

i thought it might make a good do-it-yourself oneword, since the site has had the same damn word up there for who knows how long. i'm going to start picking random words again because i'm getting restless.

so yeah. here goes: attendance?

are you going to be there? because i don't want to go if you aren't going. the thought of being alone over there with all of those people i don't know very well makes me nervous. i sometimes wonder how i would fair if i didn't have you to lean on in times likes this, and really feel as though you could be holding me back. but that comforts me in a sad sort of way because at least i know what i'm in for with you and me and the same idle chit chat we always have. not having to worry about the balance changing. not having to think on my toes. to actually get involved or risk something. just tell me you'll be there so i can just go into autopilot and live here in this cushy little situation i have built for myself. just tell me that you want to hide with me.

solo

solo. so low. my chest is bare from crawling on the ground. across the broken bottle shards of what was. across the ashes i can't seem to pull myself together enough to rise out of. i never really cared for the myth of the phoenix anyway.

funny how many "friends" you have when you're down in it. they say nice things, remind you to rise above, keep your chin up, give it time.

they are fools.

from brash beginning to the bitter end, we are all, each and every one of us, alone.



ghost

one word: solo

flying away, high and unevenly. one of my wings is broken. and i'm alone. but it doesn't take away from the fact that i am up in the air... soaring and free... even with all the pain.

oneword: blind

the pain is so bad i can't see. i can't see more than 5 minutes in front of me. what happens later on shouldn't be of a concern. can't be a concern. but you let it rule you like you can't see me.

oneword: create

Strike a note in the air, that the sound might be distinguishable from the noise. Whether order from chaos or chaos from order, the made is unmade. A single instant provides destruction’s utter destruction. It begins.

oneword: create

build me something pretty. that is dying on the inside. or something small. that is more important than anything twice its size. something that reminds you of how it used to be. even though you didn't like the way it used to be. something that gets you back to where you started. even if you don't know how it ends yet.

oneword: pure

purity of motion. dancing in denial. i am the aftermath of broken rings, failed trust. the pieces on the chess board are not supposed to change colors.

ghost

onewrod: blade

blade, man, you died as hard as you lived. i wasn't around, i had moved on, so far away from you, from that world. i used to joke that you would die with a fifth in one hand, a knife in the other, and a curse on your lips. the way i hear it though, you died in a puddle of your own filth, with nothing more than a moan and a pauper's plot to mark your passing existence.

ghost

oneword: tail

tale ends, tail spins, ice on the ground and a broken bottle. my blood mingles with the ice, and i am transported into a dali painting, abandoned inside a poem by robert frost. drowsy and alone. is it chemical induced isolation, or am i just sick of you all?


ghost

oneword: intricate

intricate. the pattern of our lives weaved, threaded, and spun together. even if a loose thread snags some sharp object and the momentum of our movement were to pull us undone, you will never truly be without my pattern so carefully and permanantly intertwined with your own. we would have to destroy ourselves to be free of the other.


ghost

sliver(s)

everytime you jump, you just know she's gonna catch you. leap, her arms fall to the side as you fall past and slam into the ground. you try to clean up the soul glass splinters, but like actual glass slivers you never really get them all and end up cutting your fingers on them time after time. after a while, you gather enough confidence to try again. everytime you jump, you just know she's going to catch you.

ghost

oneword: sliver

just a tiny piece. a small, narrow, slightly broken sliver of you. that's all i need to keep. all i need to keep moving. keep hoping. keep believing. place me on the back burner. use me until i'm raw and boring and you don't want me anymore. i'll still wait. i'll still hope. as long as i have that piece.

oneword: sinner

i was the wind. i was the light. i was a fleeting thought of life and love. i was rapture wrapped up in a smile. i was all things childish and filled with wonder. i was the savior of your world.

and i gave it all away.


ghost

oneword: saint

my father dressed me down in robes and moons and stars that dripped onto the floor like the blood of his wounds and passions long lost in the fray between him and his love and hate for a god who never let him have what he wanted.

oneword: saint

warlock, our brother of perpetual lies. man, i remember you. the golden boy, all flash of teeth and bronze of skin. where are you now? alone in an old house. wife gone. kids gone. a junkie. loathed and despised. i wonder if i'll give a fuck when you go marching in.


ghost

oneword: melt

the asphalt bubbled and bled swirling steam into the winter air. what the hell? another biblical prophecy coming true. buildings gone. people dead. even the roaches have bit the big one. life as we know it, knew it, wanted it, over.

"damn it, i refuse to be another Dali painting," i whisper, despite the fact there's not a soul around to hear me.

ghost

oneword: hay

hay is for horses. at least thats what you always said. you were always little miss manners. what a liar/hoax/crock. what's the proper etiquette for breaking a heart? doesnt really matter does it, because you did it so incredibly well, you hob nailed bitch.



ghost

directions needed

where to red star? show the path you have tread so that i may follow. or at the very least, track your movement across our collective sky. and wonder at the brilliance of your crimson flow.

dark father waits in a blue pool.



ghost

lost

lost time. lost voice. lost friend. i want it all back, but i see you are nowhere to be found. where to, red? where do we go from here?

ghost

one word: fragrence

Bright smells accompany supple skin. Vanilla flowers adorn soap and clean hair. Her smell is as intoxicating as it is indescribable.

oneword: fragrance

The spirit of deception and truth.

fragrance

the aroma of fear clings to you like the stench of mildew on clothes left too long in the washer. i drink it in, relishing in your discomfort. you've been called out. your lies, all of your big talk, has been dragged out into the sunshine and put on display like butterflies pinned to a photo album. yet, you stand there, caught in the head lights of my confrontational style.

coward. what's it gonna be? i'm not going anywhere. go ahead. make your move. we're waiting.



ghost

free style by candle light.

here falls the watcher undone
look beyond the damage sum
vivid fractures
livid actor
more by grand design
less by fate's cruel smile
candle flames whisper
subtle hate or
hates or somethng more vile
my turn with no values
i intend to express my own divinity
but its fallen, tarnished like
aged brass.
God sits his throne
with absolute job security
while i wave good bye
to lost purity

oneword: inspire

to awaken what was always present with a gesture. A reminder that we are more than limitations imposed. Hope...in the spirit of efficiency.

oneword: original

for someone unlike anyone else…it’s hard to erase what has been…to find landscapes that beg to be altered…in a way that is relevant to others.

one word: Inspire

The important people in my life who love and care about me...they inspire me on a daily basis to open my mouth and come out of my shell. They inspire me to be, well, me. I have found in recent days that people really do like me for who I am. I am inspired to be a little braver and show them all a little more. I am even more than inspired...I am excited. I don't think it matters how quickly or slowly the process of opening myself up goes, it matters that it goes and moves forward. Who knows I might even inspire somebody else one of these day or even scarier, I might inspire myself.

write your own captions...

one word: original

A false moniker in all but the most distance sense. In a world defined by the collective experiences of its inhabitance, originality operates only as a place holder, identifying the future location of history’s next great plagiarism.

one word: inspire

That element which dispite all reason compels embracement of the unknown over the surety of the known.

original

i'm not, you know. none of us truly are. we're all just carbon copies of someone who has already traveled this wicked way. there's nothing new under the sun. or so may daddy told me.


ghost

inspire

inspiration,

you kinda suck, going all m.i.a. like this. you bitch.

sincerely,
ghost

original

original sin comes from within and born from without. sinners from birth diminishes our worth as it applies to our never ending plight.

retrospect

"in retrospect..."

people always say that, as if had they the fabled 20/20 hindsight, or foresight, or sidesight, lowlight, back when they made the choice that put them there in the first place, they could have, would have, should have made a better, more enlightened decision.

but, it's not true, and it pisses me off. there's three sides to every story. ever heard that? there's your side. my side. and the truth. even had your hindsight been perfection in a royal blue sweater, the view would still be tinted, tainted with your own ideas, opinions, tastes, lusts.

to all of you, all of we, all of me, out there....to all you retrospect(ators) looking back, saying, "if only i had..."

it's done. it's over. let it go. move on.


ghost

oneword: retrospect

People think they remember.

That's one of the lies we tell ourselves when daydreaming about the way it really happened. Childhood recollections are a revisionist's ambition. Try abducting a childhood memory and replaying it through the mind of an adult, it's like projecting a home movie into a swimming pool. You are familiar with the scenes, but they're different, distorted. And depending on which way the winds blowing, you may not see anything recognizable at all.

script to scream

Themes I am exploring with an amazing writer, co-creator at current:

Sanity vs. insanity
Success vs. failure
Passion vs. plodding along
Family vs. alone
Love vs. apathy
Community vs. isolation
Caring vs. existing
Thinking vs. doing
Insecurity vs. action

Over-arching flows:
Sacrifice
Survival
Unrequited love
Quest
Insanity
Mutated concept of family
Friendship
Judgement
Father Daughter relationships
Reconnecting with estranged/lost family

let me know any thoughts on the above...random or otherwise.

one word: retrospect

Hindsight colors each great decision with the shadow of “if I had only known.” I have never walked in shadows and refuse even those of my own making.

corporate

something corporate? is that a band? or just the newest line of martha stewart bullshit being passed off as 'cool' or 'hip' or 'the latest in home decor?' pha q martha. i wish you had been shanked in jail.

one word: corporate

Palaces of glass and steel; shining bodies for the dark beings they house. Lifeless in form, actions are executed with tireless repetition and remorseless ease. Souls’ shadows reflect faintly in the polished surface, pained in presence but terrified of flight. The machine hums, feeding on its own waning light. The process repeats.

one word: vain

Deliciously self indulgent, the reflection obliges your every request. Beauty beheld! Foundations of ego are carved from living advertising. Homage paid, the mirror barters a pleasant day for its worship.

oneword: vain

The sinew of self-importance…an opaque subsistence…lipstick aspirations do little to sate the desire for approval. Heartbreaking pleas are mistaken for beauty…

Who is taking advantage of whom?

... i am quite aimless

no direction. we walk. it doesn't matter why, where or how quickly. i'm just more afraid of standing still. so afraid of never growing. never changing. whether it be for the better or for the worst.

inconsistent

your innocence in inconsistent. sometimes you play the perfect angel and sometimes you play the flawed demon. which side of the coin is an act and which is really you?

current

enter the flow of the present; the current current; the stream that is now; the drip that is dropping.

... unfold

we shall see, then... how all of this nonsense is going to be. we will try... really hard... to ignore that tingle in the back of our throats and just push through this as "normal." whatever that means. we will build... and we will burn... and we will do it all because we are impatient and don't appreciate the suspense.

... this is an emergency.

important. immediate. don't look away and don't cop out. stop running from it. stop hiding from it. you can't use me as an escape anymore so you just write me off.

block me. don't answer my texts. or my calls. but it won't change the fact that i'm still there. i'll always be there.

surface

press your face against the surf and preface surface by melting free past its solidity

not the drummer of The Red Hot Chili Peppers: flee

run the fuck as fast as you can away from me you little chicken shit. i'd run too if i knew what i was up against. but the thing is that i don't really know... because i don't know just how far i can take this and how much i can keep up this pace. what i do know is... i'mma keep busting my ass until i fall.

and then i'm gonna get back up and start again.

belonging

i was longing for belonging to a string of identities forged not by me but by those who thought they knew me and i liked him, who they thought the knew more than i liked my real self

... all hail

the queen of everything from bubble gum to moon beams and sweetness beyong belief and the understanding that all of our hearts need and want and break a little bit for ever day and it's like all the cliches say...

love.

... flash

before my eyes? not really, because i can't see you, currently. you're gone and i'm staying in to think about things. mostly about how i want to be lonely without you. mostly about how i didn't go out with him because i don't want to be close to anyone in the way except you and no... i'm not afraid to say it out loud.

... widespread

far apart and too far away to touch. to connect. to somehow feel rested and assured that these feelings will still hold true for him tomorrow. scared that when it becomes less than convenient that the effort will be too great and we will drift further and further until no length of arms will spread that wide.

... click

my life was just a series of them. the keyboard, the mouse, the end of the phone calls. he breathed into me a series of fantasies i surrounded myself in completely.

i now find myself distanced and thankful that this one little sound doesn't control me anymore.

... model

the lines of her body were smooth, curved and disproportionate. examining her only made me sad to think that this thing, never being able to exist in nature, was what we wanted to convince ourselves was beautiful.

pane

pane of widowed window smashed broken glass crashed by flying rocks flung long ago in the throws of frustration.

... pane

of glass is what should come to mind but even though the spelling is different, this word only has one meaning for me. i wish to elevate myself to a higher plane of existence, thinking, being, loving, living breathing whatever but it won't happen.

there is too much pain in the way.

... purple

hints of purple collect under my eyes in the suitcases that have formed because my heart won't sleep every night we spend hours far away in a world where nothing exists except the love we know is real but can't seem to make tangible and there is always an excuse to stay all warm and fuzzy and completely trapped inside this world of fantasy but i swear i'm breaking out.

... locked

up tight. scared to write.

all of those things down that i have thought and felt that are now lost in the vaults of the past and in the eyes of the people who never really cared in the first place i look rather silly, dramatic and emotional.

i wanted to write them so i'd remember, but now i'm glad i didn't because i needed to forget.

... usual

big, black and boring. dull print that repeats the same speech patterns that drip from my lips with tired and redundant quotes from people a lot funnier and creative than myself. we regulars come in and always have our usuals and that bartender pours the drink without even asking anymore and i just don't like the predictability my life has become.

justice

Justice. Bring the crime. Bring the accused. Bring the injured. Bring the evidence. Bring your bias, and disregard the facts.

petal

petals of sorrow drip-drip orgastic. shudders and mutters that resemble sexual satisfaction, but convey a very different message.

... cult

take your free thinking and push it aside. you don't need it. you can use your energies for more productive and useful things. it would save so much . it would make things so much. easier.

dominate

dominate the space that communicates. eat words and gain weight. eat the space between the words and gain understanding.

leap

leap the fall and hop the autumn spring through winter and hit the bottom of summer and season and time changes with reason

... possessed

the potential to be something great. notice i didn't say anything about fate or destiny or a calling or anything leading anyone to believe that there wasn't a choice in this becoming great. it is a choice you make every second of every day.

... yarn

knit me up something pretty, grandma. i'll love it to death but never wear it and only after you are gone will i treasure it like i should have every second i had it and you in my life and i miss what we could cave been to each other and i wonder why you had to go when you did.

... driftwood

it doesn't matter. you presence is welcome when you are on and exhilarating to be around. we love good jokes and good times but we have deeper love to go home to. we can appreciate this surface level interaction for what it is.

you can't... because you don't have anything else.

leave me longing for new england winters.

snow

jade of all trades:
things went white and cold rather quickly and i struggled to find myself in the whirlwind of static, circling my heart after you stole all of its warmth...

scarlet ideals:
it was chilling against my skin and you pulled off my clothes and i shook with pain and fear and more excitement than i think you may have noticed and i can't seem to shake the thoughts of all that shaking we did in each other's arms that winter.

lizzi:
fall down stairs and cheeks and mountains built out of paper scraps and rubber cement and we can make it all fit together, rolling all our lies up into a big snow ball that only stings when it hits you in the face.

... medium

tennis court skylines
and medium sized
g-string panty lines
both illuminate aching, lonely times
when we all wished
it was more than hit or miss

... some of us ARE in it for the long haul.

shenry string

cake, novice, ceremony, blank, sin, foreign, tomb, civil, rainy, byte, bite, tradition, hurl

Original sin. There is no blank slate. We are born evil. We inherit the filth of our ancestors via dna and tradition. Purity and holiness are foreign to us. We are allergic to it. Thus we perform sacred and useless ceremonies of purification so that byte by byte we reformat at spiritual hard drives. Pointless. In the end we are hurled into our rainy tombs caked in evil and unfit for afterlife.

extra

trim the excess. shed the mental fat. trim the mind of memories and achieve a more efficient state of thinking

... ceremony

a whole lot of timing. a whole lot of tip toe and hands to hold along with breath that you forget to take as the man next to you starts to nod off and it doesn't even matter what exactly we are here for, but that we do it in the right order.

deadly?! oh, there are way more than seven.

...sin

lizzi...
so necessary are these mistakes we make and rules we break so carelessly like the countless hearts without even knowing the hurt we've caused. it's all connected and all a part of it and i refuse to deny existence by limiting myself to only the good and only the right and i...

jade...
sweet, it is and i get lost in between all of the lies you force down my throat and i don't mind because this thing can at least be real to me and that really is all that matters so carry me away, please on these... my stale and boring dreams that everyone has but no one does shit about...

scarlet...
my home. my safe. but only because you won't let me be anywhere else. you want me to be wrong and bad and i will live up to all of your expectations on this upside-down pedestal i fall up from every night as you lay there wishing you could say all those things to me that you could never tell anyone else and i swear...

raiding angelina jolie's undie drawer...

tomb.

yeah, i'm a little bit dead inside. this body i walk around in trying to distract myself from how the death is eating away at my insides could be called a tomb... if you wanted to be melodramatic about it. and i suppose that i'm really good with that sort of thing, usually coupled with self deprecation.

lizzi plays catch up...

i figured that since most of us can slip up every now and again, it would be fun to try and play a new game to get us back in the swing of things. when i miss a really good word, i get uber frustrated and fill my brain with shoulda coulda woulda's... so why not type them up too?
shenry, this might be a good idea for you over the weekends. i rarely see you post during them. SUMBUDDY's a cubicle surfer.
anyway... all i did was try to string the words i missed on oneword together. they are in bold. lemme know if you dig this.


on some far away, magical summer day, i played a rainy softball game. the tears fell down casually, playfully but still covered me completely. who's idea was it to get white jerseys?
but i played on, seeing through my sexual fantasies of me and "i thought you knew." and as the evening fell, the wind picked up. it carried with it a bite that made me shiver they way i do when fingertips dance on my hips. i was shaken up, no doubt, running circles around what i thought you cared about. and in this dizzy tradition, i tumbled to the ground just like the rain drops before me.
and then you stood over me, looking down and shaking your head. i know for a fact that this time... it wasn't something that i had said.
shut up and let me hurl my silence at you. let my wants and needs be unnecessary frosting on the cake that nobody wants but eats anyway. because it's there.
and i sit there pulling up grass and rolling in the dirt, but darkness won't cover up any of the stains even when midnight strikes along with a new batch of rain.
it's time to get up and find my way home. my way away from you and them and all those plays that i should have made. but there is nothing- no map to guide. here's where we get cheesy and realize that the journey we have to take is all inside...
our minds and hearts and the focus drips off of my fingers and hair and gathers in a puddle i just want to soak myself into, letting me disappear. i don't care if it IS just a retreat- an escape.

maybe delusion is just better than intuition.

... of or in accordance with organized society.

civil liberties and edible g-strings get stuck in-bewteen my teeth and waivering self esteem.

going through the motions of "how are you" when you really just worry about everyone wanting to fuck everyone else and you wonder when that sort of thing won't matter anymore...

civil

civil liberties and securities. ben franklin said that a country that sacrifices the former for the latter deserves neither. he was right.

rainy

the news said its raining in new york. again and again it rains in new york. over the concrete and asphalt. the suits and beggars. puddles ebb and flow with the passing of taxi tires, and splash her so.

frosting

white landscape flat and barren. sand the color and texture of sticky-icky powdered bone. sit and die in the desert (dessert) of malnutrition.

better

You are no better than the roaches you associate with. You and your six-legged friends that come out when the lights are dimmed. You scavenge tiny bits and tiny crumbs from the kitchen floor where I cook my work ethic with heated sweat and effort. But you, you come along and take the scraps of everything I have done. And the sad part is that my scraps are 100 times better than anything you can come up with on your own. Roachfucker. One of these days I'll come out in the middle of the night with a can of RAID and flip the intellectual switch that sends your filthy ass scurrying under the fridge. It's a long run to the fridge, and the flat linoleum leaves you vulnerable. You are mine. Maybe I'll step on your head instead of flooding you with aerosol poison. Yes, stepping on your head will be much more satisfying. Crunch.

give me your lips and just let me kiss them...

mouth

as scarlet ideals:
it seems that i have fallen- i must have tripped. over my heart and right smack into your lips. breathing you in, moving from tiny, little sips to urgent slurps, sucks and drips.

as jaded hope:
i should have known that all the love you spit was counterfeit bullshit. i should have known that it was just skin on skin and spit mixed within a mountain built on disrespect, lies and ... hope.

as lizzi face:
mouth off to me like that again, little miss, and i swear by stone that you will live long enough to regret it and us and what we thought we had here in the dark but i can't seem to remember beacause, well i think you forgot.

mouth

that kid has quite the fucking mouth on him, doesn't he? always with the gum flapping, liquid wet shit from the mouth nonsensical ravings of an ADD afflictied teenage looney toon.

mouth

mouth. lend me your tongue and give me control. i'll slip it around and enjoy the sliding bliss of open-mouthed kiss.

secluded

turn me outside in and i become engulfed within my own reality. i am secluded from the rest, for all i see and all i hear and all i feel is myself.

forget me nots smell funny...

unforgettable

as jade
you aren't. no one is. the brain forgets for reasons within our scientific knowledge, i'm sure... but the soul forgets because it has to.
without forgetting there is no importance in remebering.

as scarlet
people tell me that i should forget about all of these self destrcutive things and silly things like talk of dreams and moon beams and bubbling streams that lead me into extreames where black is right and wrong is white.

as... well... me, i suppose
shots in the dark make for the most interesting photos and i take thousands of them hoping to catch you in just one frame. proving that you were there and that you existed and that this burn you have left on my heart from the flame of your own next to mine is there for a reason outside of my own head.

dangle

dangle that funk. drop down, James Brown. do the splits and shout, "take me to the bridge." it's cool. it's cold. it's frigid.

... destination: as jaded hope

anywhere, really. as long as i'm there. that's all i'm looking for. my brother has found that in his current state of infatuation and while i do feel sorry for him... part of me is so jealous to be there too. wherever, there is really. as long as he's there.

... destination: as scarlet ideals

of course i was mad.
we were supposed to end up all tangled up with my skirt pulled up and his head all doped up and it's just too bad that this is all made up.

... destination

unkown? i'd like to have a mohawk someday. but then i'd have to deal with more lesbian comments. i have enough already. i miss my friends back in maryland. the real ones. i don't feel very poetic right now... mainly because everything else around me is.

... weapon

daggers, they said her eyes were like. so original. pools of blue ice and fire, they said her eyes were like. so prolific. a window inside a soul that maybe should be kept a mystery, they called her eyes. so insightful.
but he just called them pretty... and part of her died inside.

... weapon: as jaded hope

my weapon of choice is honesty.

but not the easy, every day kind. the stuff that is left unsaid, hanging on the misconceptions of your perceptions. i say what no one wants to hear but NEEDS to hear and the power in uncovering a truth so blatantly ignored moves me beyond words.

... weapon: as scarlet ideals

my weapon on choice is fire.

heat. the flame usually coming from inside of me, sometimes between myself and the people around me, but mostly between a boy eye's and the area in between my thighs.

small

I crawl across the cobblestone floor and fall through the small cracks between the stones into a universe unseen

include

include the diluted deluded aftereffects of a tuna overconsumption. mercury. hg. feel the toxic metal accumulating in the brainstem, feeding psychosis of neurosis by devouring the central nervous system.