steadyflux
the toy sat alone on the curb, its plastic eyes wet with the rain that sprinkled down. it had always been this way.
she plucked reluctantly on the strings, unsure of her ability to play. "i used to know this, I used to have a clue." she assured herself and then began to draw the bow.
slightly shivering, she ducked deeper into the safety of her stretched out sweater. she thought of this sweater like a semi-bubble of warmth and couldn't quite get every seal tight.
until i am buried. until my body erodes. until my molecules disperse. until i become a new piece of life. ... even then. that's just the beginning. this word is too heavy, therefore it means nothing.
when i was still a kid i would think that all times before my birth were ancient history, and to a certain extent, i still feel this way. but looking back 20 years now, i can still remember how it felt to be around back then and it certainly doesn’t seem ancient. i can only imagine that the continuum of time stretches back similarly for everyone older than me. this must be something every “adult” figures out in his/her own time. it only took me 30 years.
The pimple just kept getting bigger. I was being so good. I never even looked at it in the mirror, let alone touched it with any idea of squeezing it. Why couldn't my skin just fix its imperfections without leaving me with this ever-expanding, disgusting, pus-filled cross to bear?
sometimes while cleaning, she would come across a hidden gem. last week, she found a photo of the client naked and posing for an unseen photographer. it was peculiar to see him in this light. it made it hard to look him in the eye, but it was delightful.
I want to see more of the small clouds of blood that are drawn up into the syringe and get diluted in the delivery mechanism. The sensual and sexual nature of the mixing of these fluids is subtle but undeniably arousing.
“whats inside?” she asked as her fingers felt around the tape at the edges of the gift wrap. pity she couldn’t keep the contents.
"Sometimes you just have to decide mid-air. Am I going to jump or not? It's scary as hell up there." The acrobat's "tips", (if that's what you'd call them) didn't put me at ease. The trapeze barely moved, swinging dully above the center of the net, mocking me with its stillness. I don't have the stomach for this.
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writing since 2010 · 28 entries · 24 days shown up
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