scream
It's been so long since I've written.
"Velvet violet lining" springs to mind... Poe's description of the cushion on which he rested his head and regretfully noted that Lenore's head would never rest upon again.
Her eyes sparked with determination, a bright violet light calling to me as a lighthouse to a marooned ship, desperate for land. I needed her.
She lost her footage while trying to climb the mountain. Her grip slipped, and her camera fell from her sweaty hand. Aghast, terrified, and stricken, she yelled--as if it might stop falling and come back to her. Her partner called down to her with his hand outstretched, "It doesn't matter now! We need to get out of here!"
My thoughts are flailing. The girl falling from the sky is flailing. My heart is flailing.
It's been so long since I wrote anything substantial that I find it extremely hard to write something regarding "flailing." So I feel the former three sentences very succinctly.
This entry sucks.
The king looked down from his throne, based on the roof of his tallest of spiraling towers. His gaze was cast all about the land. He could see for fifty miles in every direction--or, rather, he would have been able to if he didn't need his adviser to hold up his glasses for him and whisper in his ear that all this would indeed be his someday soon.
"What?" The king shot his adviser a quizzical look, propping himself forward on his gilded throne's arms.
"I said, sire, don't you remember when you said to me, 'all of this would indeed by mine someday soon?"
You know, when I see the word "racket" a different meaning comes to mind from what used to spring forth. I used to think of the nation's educational system, or some 1950's mob boss, or religion. Now... now I just think of you. I think of the last two years I've spent with you, and wonder how the hell I didn't see it all coming. It was all just one big fucking racket for you, wasn't it?
He was a chief in the Coast Guard. He saved lives--countless lives--while hardly being able to tend to his own. Where's the pay off in that? When is that ever fair? How can one have a family when one's life becomes dedicated to the lives of others?
He was sad, most of the time. Lonely. But when he got to see his wife's face again... he was that happiest man in the world.
We have a couch in our house. It's pretty ordinary: a dull color that is either purple or brown, depending on the day; upon sitting, your ass is sucked into the back and you can never get up ever again (unless you muster an insane amount of willpower, of course); the wooden upholstery is very much there, and you can feel it under the material of the couch. It's not mine, nor is it my boyfriend's, but it's our roommate's. He got it on craigslist.
The baby panda, hardly the size of a human palm, peeked out of the mother's pouch to squint at the world with hazy eyes. What the baby didn't know, though, was that his mother was dead, and the poachers weren't going to let a baby panda live.
So useful, and in so many ways: umbrellas for bad weather shield pedestrians from said bad weather, and umbrella terms for those who can't think of anything better to say become the best thing since Confucius-isms in the board room.
I thought about religion when I saw this word.
Everyone is so set on punishment and justice, and punishment being the effect of justice. Or the product?
I can't think. This free-writing session is not going over well.
oh well.
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