|spend some time with me|
Death Sentence Promisessometimes i have disbelief playing in my eyes,
rewinding my past as if it never left.
stitching your memories along my back
so i can be stuck to your yesterdays
until insanity grows tired.
i'm a prisoner of time, because
you're permanently sketched across my timeline,
creating mental scars that never heal
& when you're writing your memoirs in my blood -
do you know that you stole my only innocence.
i'm constantly braiding your veins &
twisting your eye-sockets so you
can bathe in the misery you washed me in,
until you return something
you never deserved.
i'll haunt you til you plead for death - -
that's the only way i'll ever get it back.
Promises to KeepDusk, the late ashes of summer.
The earth is loose beneath my feet.
I strain my eyes, searching for the
piercing glare of headlights.
Help is not on the way tonight.
Is it common for man to pray for
blindness, so that he may finally see?
An owl has stalked me for miles,
circumnavigating the merlot sky.
She taunts me with the answer.
I come upon a car, abandoned in a ditch-
The same one I crawled out of hours before.
I want to take my shoes off,
to drown myself in that cornfield,
to let the tallest take me.
But, then again
In Bocca al LupoMy eyes open again for yet another lovely day of lab life. Got Will behind the wheel this time. What's with the shaky brainwaves, Will? They gonna have you do something nice and painful with me today?
The lead scientist grins. "Here he is! Say hi to the general, William."
"Hello, Mr. Arroyo."
Ah, gotta show off for the big-shots. They would have you in the pilot's seat for this. Smart kid, never steps out of line. Not the worst person to have in your head. Could stand to put a little more emotion into the voice. Handshake needs work too. Come on, show them how comfortable you are with this strength.
The general locks his gaze onto the man's pale yellow-brown eyes. "What does it feel like?"
The eyes dart to the ground, and then rise to meet the general's. "Different. I mean, of course it's different, but it's... well, it's hard to explain, Sir."
The lead scientist steps between them. "What he means is that it is a marvelous experience and he is ready to show you what can b
origamiI had met him last year, first day of Bio class. He was leaning back in his chair, idly pinching the corners of the craziest piece of origami I'd ever seen. I pulled up a chair next to him.
He nodded absentmindedly. I felt the need to say something relevant.
"Can you make a crane?"
He looked at me, almost snorted, then nodded, ripping out a piece of notebook paper.
He was done before the class bell had rung.
It was a pointed dodecahedron. It was made out of twelve pieces of paper, he said. It was the hardest piece he'd ever found, and took him a week to get to the point where he could fold it decently from memory.
He explained this all excitedly while making one for me, creasing the edges almost gracefully.
He was happy.
His mom opened the door and sent me upstairs. I tapped on his door, and creaked it open slowly.
You know the story where the girl folds a thousand paper cranes and hung them up in her room? That was his room, except with pointed dodecahedrons; spi