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hand over the button. his hand, body hovered for the while she sat there. there was a stain of tears that sealed her eyelashes to her lid. they kept her statue still, watching the subtle tremble of his fingers. then he left. that was when she felt her lungs move again.

ant

crumbs like ants sprinkled your cotton cartoon t-shirt. i wondered how my aunt could have possibly given birth to something so naive and happy, simple and sweet. she sends you kisses from behind bars. she's sorry for the bad dreams and the absent, helpless look in my eyes when you ask where your daddy went. he's on the highway... and the garden... and the trunk...

there's a plague of words attacking the people. from a foreign carrier, they leap onto unsuspecting strangers. it makes them over analyze minute gestures, like glances and flickering eye contact. it kills the weak; sends them into a cold sweat of debilitating unrequited infatuation. they're all better off quarantined...

mean

"she makes a mean burger, i'm not even kidding," i said over the seat of the car, "she used to work at an in-n-out burger in cali- shut up. yeah and for as long as i remember, she'd make my brothers and i the most glorious beef patties. sometimes fries but my grandpa didn't want her around all that spitting oil." her arms had scars and wrinkles like silk from some otherworldly ruin. in a good way. she'd kill me if she knew i said that. pete grumbled as i went on about the lady; his hunger made him a horrible listener.

mean

this test had just killed me. i could feel it. my blood was cold. i looked at the numbers scratched on the corner of the desk and felt a heat rise up to my face. something else was mentioned by the looks of things, pages flipped. however the overpowering sensation of my future (college, cars) dimming ate up the rest of my extremities' capabilities. that was the day i threw up on ---'s shoes in calculus and fainted.

she sipped tentatively on the teacup, willing her eyes to stray down to the murky liquid. but her distrust and hesitation was clear - the saucer rattled against the cup. "how does it taste?"

the dead meat was red behind the clear plastic wrap, the blood maroon. "have you ever had raw meat before?" i teased, and leaned on the shopping cart's handle. she looked over her shoulder and wrinkled her face in disgust. i prodded the slice of beef one last time before squeaking after her highness.

i felt the fabric of the maroon dress on the rack and imagined myself siting at a fake french restaurant with him, crossing my legs under the white table cloth and laughing at a joke. i imagined him sliding his hand across the fabric after dinner, and whispering something in my ear. then i looked at the price tag and walked away, blushing at the sales clerk.

cast

the shadows casted ominous shapes, kind of like the tilted shape of lips looming kind of like the dark part of your pupils. the room is lit but i still feel alone.

cast

she casted her eyes up to the horizon. it looked like rain. the clouds were churning and her damp clothing were whipping wantonly in the gust. the tense muscles on her shoulder were slick with the humidity and the rushing warm air seemed to hold her immobile. her favorite dress had snagged onto a branch when a cool droplet smacked against her cheek.

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writing since 2011 · 31 entries · 20 days shown up

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on this day 14 years ago

jess wrote about porter
“The bells and whistles clanked and called. He felt his heart thudding to death like a bat trapped in a box. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, possibly reflecting Rebecca's paled face as the…”

the words jess reaches for

morningwhiteeyeshanddominatingfellheadshoulderdarkroomredbloodfacearmswordssweat