|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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it never endsi thought i killed you.it never ends by ohsostarryeyed
i watched the bullet
sink like stone in water,
push your skin aside
like moses and the red sea,
and settle like a lonely man
into the bone of your skull.
i saw you bleeding on the floor,
rivulets of red
running into rivets of steel
in some factorial setting.
it felt like a crime scene,
but i was doing humanity a service.
i was silencing the neverending,
voice in the back of its mind,
the murmurs of inadequacy,
the whispers of unwantedness.
i was quelling the fears
of rejection and dejection,
resurrection and affection,
i was making it free to love again.
i was doing humanity a service.
tonight i watched you
crawl across the cold concrete.
you wrapped your fingers,
around my ankle,
blood trickling like a faucet
slowly down your cheek,
hollow and raw
as you climbed me like a thickened ladder.
i felt your claws
clutch my throat,
the calluses on your knuckles
scraping me naked.
"i will starve you
of everything you want
renewalyou are small,renewal by ohsostarryeyed
if you can,
i am white washed on the shores,
the grains of sand clinging
to your skin until it glitters.
i will start fires,
if it means something to you;
i will scrub my hands
if my blood is your currency.
i have folded under the bends
of your effort,
your being pressing into me
just by the weight i feel
in my heart.
to hear your voice
is to hear a melody
i knew i could never know again,
that i had sworn to forget;
yet upon hearing it,
felt my body swell with its notes
and burst with memory.
you are still one thousand miles
away from me, and i will pretend
with every fibre of my being
that this is a soft feeling,
because i can hardly
admit to myself that i
would give my lifeblood
and bodily dust to
the gods of the sea
if it meant
closer to 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
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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