libyrinth
I never am able to anticipate the barrel roll my stomach does when you smile at me. My axis is rocked, and the g-force is enough to throw me across country. But damn, what a good kind of pain that is.
"Are you ever going to get over this sophomoric existential crisis, Mark?"
"Probably not."
"Well, there you are. Stubborn as a mule. Just like his father."
"Alright Ms. Gregory, let's move on. Now, Mark, you say you've been having dreams?"
"He claims he doesn't exist, and that there's a whole other universe where my husband I have never had a son!"
"That question was not for you, Ma'am."
"See what I mean, Doc? She's intolerable; dunno how the old man does it."
"Huh! Sometimes I envy this other-me you claim exists. She's free to do as she likes!"
Tip tap tip tap;
her fingers are like lightning.
She is playing a grand piano,
the grandest-
a piano made of letters-
of words.
Like a Maestro, her fingers run across the keys;
tip tap tip tap.
"Come on, read it out loud!" Alice begged her friend; fortune cookies are the best bit of a Chinese dinner.
"Alright, alright. It says...'With the setting sun comes destruction'."
Alice felt the blood drain from her face.
"Well, that's a little ominous..."
Force is really an art form. With a well-placed blow, anything will break. Egos, noses, sanity, hearts. An object is only as strong as it's weakest point.
So come on.
Try to force me.
Let's see who wins.
Silk worms crawled across the floor as she watched, forlorn and far away. The beauty that was possible because of these creatures would never be known to them, just as the naive and innocent ignorance prevents humans from seeing their true potential. At least, that's what the man in the blue police box told her; for some reason she trusted his kind, sad eyes.
Bubbles float from my lips
up to the surface.
Pockets of air escaping
quickly.
I'm sinking
drowning
smiling.
She's poison in my veins.
The difference between night and day.
Her skin is inside my own; pressed up against the edge-
ready to jump, whenever I say.
I wonder sometimes, if I shall succeed.
Maybe I’ll just always need
someone to push me.
I hope that under duress,
I’ll achieve some sort of natural success.
Probably not.
Is it okay then, to just
rot?
writing since 2011 · 10 entries · 9 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means libyrinth showed up.
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9days written
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the words libyrinth reaches for
tiptapsometimesprobablyforcealrightwondersucceedpushhopeduressachievenaturalsuccessalicefingers