quarterthought

quarterthought

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due

"If I still have a remaining ten hours to finish, I will not start on it right now," she said as she licked the ice of her popsicle, her math homework sprawled on the table in its seemingly seething state.

bury

Bury yourself. Bury yourself in passions. Sink your bones and etch your skin until your daylight is anew. Until your daylight is not the streaming light but the sparks that you seek, the sparks that you set

bury

There is no fire starting in my heart. There is a fireplace, buried at the depths of my bones. It has snapshots of your hair for coal. And everyday it grows until the smoke seeps through my teeth and I'm afraid it'll all slip out-- like dust and ashes-- all those remains of you

I see you, all of you, but all is irrelevant. I have slipped into the realm of complete and utter magic. I have drowned in nothing but sounds. I don't need your babble and your sad anecdotes. I have but the voice of the gun and the sounds of the trees and this is all I need to get by.

I had been but the leech of your intellect, the leech of your brilliance. The left over off the spilt cackling zeal. It's about time I lit up my own torches and brighten my own soul.

It's all in between, she said, all in between. Glass tears by the end, all in between. Through the weather-beaten palms and the scabrous brawn. Glass rills, all in between.

They brush by the tips of my fingers, the callouses in between. They scratch my nails and taint my bones. I bend, but I don't break. On the shelf cradled by the night time's slumber, they sit still. And by the edge of my wooden thoughts, parchment woven with lead. Darlings, my little darlings. Flimsy little darlings.

half

I fear I may never find mine. I fear it has dwindled away down the wrong century. I fear I had sprouted at the wrong time. I fear I missed that corner. I fear it didn't miss me at all.

banks

She called it a prison where they grow trees. With eyes and ears and bumblebees.

I wasn't searching for yours I was searching for Mine Because there are thorns where I want my roses to be Or perhaps there are a few that i don't see

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writing since 2011 · 19 entries · 16 days shown up

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

3longest streak

16days written

0.2entries / week

on this day 14 years ago

elysia wrote about puncture
“My bones are dry, and I just want your breath to envelop my flesh. Like cotton blankets. Winter blankets. But the cold, it's a 3 second seep through the fur. And you're there, but gone away throug…”

the words elysia reaches for

wonderedbonesfearhairhalfasssaltglassdeardarlingsbushtinyeyesnailsdisarraysoul