|spend some time with me|
12-22-1312-22-1312-22-13 by Reanimated4now
This is a familiar place, muggy, the breeze shifts through the room from the opened, indifferent windows. The day is gray, even through the half-opened shades, the days are short already, sun setting and by six gone, the gray further suspends time, the relativity of time having no solid reference points, suspended truly. Hair out we lie across the sweaty sheets as the breeze cools our skin. I have known other suspended places between dimensions like this. I think, it feels like...
rain begins to pour down outside, each drop sounding through the screens of the bedroom windows. the bump and shuffle of the music shifts on, marches on. Other places, summers in the nineties, long, confused muggy days, tall grass and playing outside for fun, never inside. Other places, the broken up, radial blast houses outside of Detroit in the fallout cloud shadow of the Monroe nuclear power plant. No sun here, in time, clouds, space, we float. (and here?)
Here everything is a Japanese barren mang
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Black ThreadA black haired girl sat on the windowsill and wound thread. The thread snaked through the dusty room and out the door. A clock ticked quietly in the corner and sometimes one could hear how snow fell from the roof.Black Thread by Nemisor
The window, which the girl leaned against, reeked coldness. The air inside was dry and old, and full off dust, which tickled the skin and and made one cough. The girl's eyes were half close as her fingers expertly pulled the thread to her and wound it into a ball.
The clock struck eleven. A tired looking wooden bird appeared from the clock and started cuckooing. The girl's figure vibrated. For only a fragment of a second one could think that the black hair was only a hood of a cape, and under it stared empty eye sockets.
And bony fingers expertly pulled the thread to it and wound it into a ball.
Then the bird was silenced, snow fell from the roof and the girl continued winding.
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
Hello my name is Nick. I try to pull words down to the ground and stand them in groups so when roll is called they sound like somebody organized them with a little bit of elegance. |
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I hope that today is the best day you have lived, and tomorrow too.
Current Residence: Woodbridge, Virginia
Every passing moment is another chance to turn it all around.
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