jackaria
the swelling mass of people gyrating under the black light, moving with the sound waves so clearly altering their reality, were like atoms undergoing a chemical reaction, pulsating with each new contact and transforming into a new ideal.
Whether they are ancient artifacts, saved from the caputered moments of old, or the ultra modern streamlined avenue of communication consuming young teenagers, they are ways of communicating, and logging our human interactions with one another. writing is what makes us human. more human.
It was look a green putrid sticky solid. its remnants danced about the countertop glittering and grinning back at me, supposing it was me who would clean them up. well no, not today you weird looking goo, today you will sit, and tomorrow you will be frowning
the floor opened up and there it was. the hole could be see from the depths of space in less time than it took to take a dump on venus. the onlookers stared in punitive glances hoping that the end was not ment for them, but for their capturs who had awakened the sleeping gods of old. for a moment all held there breath as the only witnesses of the hole in the earth
i was forced to carry his secret. weighing heavier by the minute, drudging the by the hour. time was forced to move so slow under his burden. my chest felt hollow, stomach empty, knees weak without a cure.
my legs were becoming more weak. Bruises spotted me green, purple, yellow. i couldnt resist listening to the birds outside. the door slammed. i held my breath and stumbling away from the window.
writing since 2012 · 14 entries · 13 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means jackaria showed up.
1longest streak
13days written
0.3entries / week
the words jackaria reaches for
nowhumantoesfaceweakgreenheldbreathwindowforcedfloorholemomentlookinganothershadows