• RS Bohn commented on the post, coarse 17 hours, 51 minutes ago

    The coarseness of his hair surprised. I had, I suppose, expected it to be silky. Still, I ran my palm across his shoulder, down his chest. He quivered.

    “Beautiful beast,” I said. “Do you give yourself to me?”

    He lowered his head, a noble nose touching the floor. He acquiesced. Agreed to be–

    Mine.

  • RS Bohn and Kaitlyn are now friends 5 days, 15 hours ago

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, blurry 6 days, 17 hours ago

    The sunlight made everything blurry–or maybe it was the hangover. She shouldn’t have gone out last night with Greg. She was an agent now, expected to make critical, mature, intelligent decisions. Such as not getting wasted with a co-worker on a Tuesday night.

    It had been, however, to celebrate her promotion. Stuffing her face back into the pillow, she burrowed her hands beneath it and pricked herself.

    “Ouch,” she muttered, and withdrew the sharp item.

    Her new badge. Silver and ornate, heavy and… hers. She was officially Agent Paulson, one of the Association. One of an elite group of werewolf-hunters. One of… the victims of the worst hangover she could ever remember.

  • paper commented on the post, prank 1 week ago

    losing definition of myself and wondering if it’s okay, screeching top down hair whipping high school legend on the highway is what i never was

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, huddled 1 week, 2 days ago

    Pit bulls huddle beneath sky rockets fallen among the pick-ups and Toyotas. Vagrants gone, food gone, puddles of oil and rain water abound. Somewhere, in an asparagus-green sky, their masters rotate in silver star-condos. A rib cage expands and contracts. Far off, in an apartment building, a girl wakes, alone, in a pile of dirty laundry. She puts on shoes and coat and goes looking for them, with scraps in her pockets and lemon-scented hair.

  • paper commented on the post, delighted 2 weeks ago

    When did it start? I think
    that one time when you meant to prop your knee up on the bed and tripped and fell onto the floor. When I made you mad, and it hurt me. Getting to touch you wherever I want whenever I want, and that empty feeling as I wait for you to touch me back. A little loneliness, knowing you or me are not enough. Cold sheets. Hot air. The back of your head. Fear of falling off the balcony ledge like little paper ashes
    fluttering
    into dust.

    Small delights.

  • paper commented on the post, translucent 2 weeks, 4 days ago

    this is here. the place that i’m always coming back to. the craving eats me up inside, soft poison touch floating over that delicate delicate thing we call happiness, fluttering like a veil at the top of the mountain, nestling down below in the dark bitter earth. waiting for me to come home.

  • paper changed their profile picture 3 weeks, 5 days ago

  • paper commented on the post, patch 3 weeks, 5 days ago

    every time i climb over your skin i feel like i am falling into your imperfections. the patches of skin where i feel your anger, softest. you know i have a sick adoration for your dirty blues and black thoughts.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, billiards 1 month, 1 week ago

    Werewolves playing billiards again at Sam’s. I hang back, watching. They’re pretty good; they’ll take you for a twenty or so. They’re not out for blood. Not like the kids in their hoodies, pretending to be sixteen. Now them, you need to watch out for. They’ll take you for everything you’ve got.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, decadence 1 month, 2 weeks ago

    All that decadence, and no one to ignore it. No one to treat it with indifference, no one to walk past, as if gilded vases filled with crystal lilies were in everyone’s houses.

    Only me, and if I am the only one to see it, and no one sees me amidst it, does it even matter? Perhaps nothing matters anymore, or more likely, the things that matter now have always been important, but we treated them like dust upon our golden o’bjets: to be wiped away, quickly, before anyone sees.

    I hoist the crossbow and take aim. One of them is at the French doors, coming in. It wears Armani, tattered. Perhaps it used to live here. Perhaps it is as appalled by the world outside now as it was then; or perhaps it merely scented me. The arrow flies, and the dead teeters back, back, into the half-empty pool. I shut the doors and lock them, and pretend it was I who used to live here.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, stalling 1 month, 3 weeks ago

    Deirdre stalled for time, brushing biscuit crumbs from her trousers. The dragon leaned its massive head closer and peered at her through one blood-red eye.

    “Answer, miss.”

    Deirdre gulped. The creature’s breath alone was like a furnace. What would its flame be like, should she answer wrong?

    “I think, sir,” she said after a moment, “that yes, I should very much like a ride.”

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, sly 1 month, 3 weeks ago

    Sly poured himself another orange juice. It tasted like morning, curtains closed, and oatmeal on the stove, bubbling up. It tasted like Callie was still here, moving about the kitchen, telling him to drink his o.j.

    It tasted like days that would never come again. He shoved it off the table and let the glass break.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, adapted 1 month, 4 weeks ago

    They’ve adapted. We’re on the run, now. All our defenses turning to dust–literally. Now that the plants have turned photosynthesis into a weapon of destruction, and they’ve mobilized, we’ve nowhere to go, except to the mountains.

    Up the rocks, past deadly lichen. Avoiding murderous stunted pines. Up, up. It’s the only way to hide.

    Closer to the sun, though…

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, educated 2 months ago

    We the educated: we are few, we are

    scissored in half by the world

    If you need a friend, look to me, look elsewhere, look

    inside. This book has arrived just in time

    sport a passage or two upon your neck for

    all the world to see

  • paper commented on the post, backtrack 2 months, 2 weeks ago

    i like things in ink and blood– too heavy for the every day man, i know, but i’ve always been too invested and yet not open enough. closed and hard like a cold iron drillpoint powered by nothing but puffs of air, sort of like the whirling hurricane that pirouettes en pointe with it’s head in the clouds, but without the dignity. the only words i won’t take back are the ones that i write, but in the meantime, please let me take back my self from your heart.

  • robyn commented on the post, backtrack 2 months, 2 weeks ago

    two things.

    I. if i loved you any less
    i would still swallow you whole –

    II. that moment when you leaned in near to me
    to say something just as fragile;
    i was too caught up on slowing my heart to pay attention,
    i always miss the important parts

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, weathered 2 months, 2 weeks ago

    Each day we pray the weathered barn will fall, of its own accord and not at anyone’s hand; certainly not by ours. We watch through curtains mildewed and thick, hoping for the vibration that will tell us the boards are giving way. Some afternoon, some sweet afternoon, the barn may fall. And on that day, Diana, and all of us, will shudder with relief at the abattoir of our elders having finally turned to dust.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, miraculous 2 months, 3 weeks ago

    These are days of miracles, certainly. She thinks that every day since the night she met him has been full of amazement. Even the most mundane things are full of sparkle. It’s as if a miraculous treasure chest opened, and blinded her with its contents, and now all she can see are the glittering diamonds left in his wake.

  • RS Bohn commented on the post, cutest 3 months ago

    When the cutest of the little dragons was finished sneezing, we gathered them into a basket and apologized for all the pepper. They grinned toothy grins and spat sparks, and allowed us to carry them all the way to school. Matthew had an old bee hive; Julie had her grandma’s teeth. But we had a basket of dragons, all bright and vicious and adorable. Show and Tell Day was ours.