choirqueer

choirqueer

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hurry

hurry hurry don't be late. scamper out and through the gate. don't stop to shut it behind you. there isn't time. you better get moving or you'll miss the bus. you run up the driveway, don't step on any cracks, you know the drill. cat scootles across the sidewalk, nearly tripping you, and then you see it. it's small and green and you're the only one who can save it.

torch

i carried the torch out to the porch and stood there with it in my hand. it burned loudly. everyone else on the block had one too. we stood there and looked at one another, silently standing with our arms above our head, showing our blazing torches to the world. check it out, check it out! we're all here lighting this street up together. this is our neighborhood. this is our scene.

booth

the little child stood behind the lemonade booth with a crayoned sign, FIVE CENTS A CUP. an old person walked over. "five cents a cup, eh?" they said with a snicker. "but how much is the lemonade?"

thief

thief of the night, you took away the darkness and now all we have is light it's too bright it hurts my eyes, it burns the planet can't spin, it can only make half-turns shaking semi-circles through the sky we said goodbye

pretzels tie themselves in knots. they are tasty, cool or hot. you can dunk them in some sauce. you can share them with your boss. twisty snacky tasty treats. they are good for us to eat. they can be many shapes and sizes. pretzels are such great surprises. i like them soft, i like them hard, i like them inside and in the yard

wrath

the arms of vengeance like thorny vines wrap evilly around the throat of the hapless traveler whose only crime against the bloodthirsty tree was looking like the one before who bore the saw that slayed the tree's companion.

in the house the white dress sat on a shelf. it would never get worn, because it would so quickly become grimy that it didn't even seem worth it. day after day it sat sadly in the closet. the pitter patter of little shoes sweeping the freshly mopped floor became its soundtrack, the rhythm of the poor dress's day.

mole

above his ear there was a mole. he had never seen it before the barber cut his hair a little higher up than usual. at first he was amazed she hadn't severed it. after that, he was excited to show it off. when he showed it to me, i detected a bit of embarrassment in his voice. why would you be embarrassed to have a mole?

i feel tempted to retreat when i meant to be present i run myself out of space, sent into absence the orbit i banish my globe-trotting tentacles to wash off the skipping spot know not what i see know not what i do

i wonder where the time goes when we aren't watching it. i wonder why curious george is so fascinating to small children. i wonder why bananas are yellow. i wonder why the word "curious" sounds so much more entertaining in a british accent. i wonder why "k" sounds catch in your mouth sometimes.

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writing since 2011 · 68 entries · 67 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means choirqueer showed up.

10longest streak

67days written

1.9entries / week

on this day 15 years ago

choirqueer wrote about level
“it balances out, one side the same as the other. flip it around and you'll get the very same thing. one side, the other side, even. climb up to the next level and rest there for a while. take in what…”

the words choirqueer reaches for

skylighteyesfarrainbehindanotherfaceholdinsidewonderspacenightnowgroundsound