All that she ate, her stomach is not full, the feeling churns into acid (probably not).
All that he swam, his arms were not tired, the water spread past him (in a wave).
All that I touch, my fingertip is burned, […]
Like the string fraying on a pair of:
Jeans and think for a moment about what the color blue might sing on a Monday
Or a Tuesday – I’m not too picky.
That’s a lie.
Instead take a look at the fireworks […]
I think the most important part of all of this was that his hands were clasped, arms jutting forward. There he stood, a battering ram of flaking skin and curly hair and he still charged.
From the distance, I […]
At the pantry, you’d probably go for a chocolate bar, or more likely one of those fiber bars that have a little bit of chocolate on them so you could say that you had a lot of sugar today and that’s why you’re so hyper.
I know that’s not the truth.
Maybe it’s that your older sister came to visit you, with her two kids – one’s just old enough to start walking, but the other one (your favorite, because even though you’re not supposed to keep favorites when your niece has a vocabulary of all of three words, your nephew tends to be your favorite) knows how to spin a good story, and he ends up telling you about his latest trip to the zoo.
You used to hate the zoo. But now you like it. For some strange repressed reason. If I were a psychologist I’d mention your mother or your father or possibly sexual inadequacies (though maybe you’d be blushing to much at the last one to give me a coherent answer).
All of them would be incorrect, bu it’s fun to make you blush. You started out a shy child and stayed that way. Even your partner thinks so (you think the terms boy/girl friend to be … strange).
No. Instead, you like the zoo now because you can spend a day just staring at the exhibits and no person will try to talk to you and the animals won’t spare a moment for you either. It’s a good way for you to ignore things.
This is coincidentally why you’re not too fond of your sister now – she doesn’t have the decency to ignore you as she once did – since she wonders why you’re so happy with the world. When did happiness become a suspicious trait, you sometimes think.
Not that she’s wrong.
If your point is to be made you’d have to travel back thirteen years, but you’re a bit too bitter to do so.
The bare bones speak to a tiny problem. The thing is, you shouldn’t be happy. Yet, now you are.
In any other world, this wouldn’t be a problem.
Spread it across a bagel. Or a cracker. Maybe if you’re feeling particularly cultured a pita chip. But well, not many people are willing to put up that sort of pretense to seem cultured.
Actually, you are […]
I’ve recently been dreaming about … they scare me, these things – I wake up in the middle of the night, heart twisting through a figure eight.
I roll to my other side and go back to sleep, try not to wake you up.
The fan spins: once, twice, three times, until even buried under the pile of blankets he feels cold – from the soles of his feet to the tip of his forehead.
Her right foot kicked circles in the air, a blue fan unraveling, looking not so much a serene lake, sparkling dew drops, glistening mist, but the gaiety of a festival, powder and fireworks painting the sky before my face.
The fog outside the bus window stretched for miles upon miles, and it’s trite but for a second I though that I could reach out and fall off the edge of the world.
There is a blank space beneath the corner, in front of the window sill, to the left of the curtains and the right of the flat-screen HD television that he doesn’t need but bought anyway out of a show of machismo […]
There is an apple on the top of the fence.
Balancing for now, it tends to fall on the right-hand side. The other way lies madness, you once said.
You were wrong (but only the history books will know that).
You sit and wait, keep your eyes open, letting them burn, wanting them to burn until you see the lightning jerk across the edges of clouds.
When you blink, it has already gone by.
If she wanted to run past plains and plains of skeletons, dark and small, crumbled between the ground and her fingers, she would laugh as the grey-streaked dirt falls behind her.
She does not want to, but this […]
There’s this pop in the center of her heart every time she hears her name, sharp and blunt and similar to falling off a three-story building, watching a man put a small knife to her ribs.
The repetitions of her […]
And beside my elbow there is a leaf, thin veins tossed in a net around the surface, green as the grass or the sky or the sun on a nauseating day.
I throw it into the pan, waiting for it to cook.
Nails curl beneath our tongues, dry and thin, and crunched with a twang, a snap between two teeth, hastily jammed into red-bleached gums.
She scratches her nail on the writing desks, files it down to a sharp point in the shape of a triangle or needle or slice of pizza, she doesn’t really care for either of the options.
By the time the remaining […]
Control, tight as a rope – slip it between my breast bone till you can count the ridges on each – fragment. Hold it close to your heart, and closer to your lungs. Let it dissolve in your blood.
I dreamt of being murdered last night, of crying fat, ugly tears and feeling the saltwater mix with mucus running down from my nose, letting it spread and cake all over my face.
I remember begging and pleading and bribing, and she, I think it was a she, just laughed, as if my hopes to die quickly were ridiculous, and that she would watch and smile and laugh as I burned.
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