phonyindisguise
A swarm of tiny black birds. A sky so bright it's white in your eyes. You hold the bottle by its neck and move it with the flock, staring up, feet tumbling over each other like bloated ants, waiting to find the cloud that's pushing them to leave home.
I caught him on a cold morning with a snowball in a saucepan, holding the handle tight but gentle like a dog's leash.
A lantern. There was a slow hot wind, old stone, and somebody standing in the doorway.
the solution to anonymity is to leave the dark of the bedroom and let your pupils dilate. to let the sun touch you, and allow someone to hear your footsteps.
The entrance was small, surrounded by dark concrete, and barely lit by something far away and dim, but she went toward it anyway.
The bird over a mountain trails feathers and insects, just as a man over a sidewalk leaves dirt and smashed ants
Twenty-four hours gone and he couldn't shine brighter. A shot. A single shot made him the happiest person in the world.
One month and a few shots more and the feeling still hadn't left. Two months later and it only got better. Three, four, five months passed and that shine from his self was still there; he knew there was no other way things could have been.
He used to be she, then she started using T -- the transition to something that was more than in pronoun.
There was beginning to be something of a storm out on the dunes. The wind blew the little grains of sand wherever it pleased, made them look like massive swarms of the littlest bugs against the bright blue sky.
There was a flood in your house. I came as soon as you called, and that's saying something because I was two beers in and on the verge of making a couple of new pseudo-friends because of them. But I still came. You called me and you sounded like you were in a recording studio, glass walls everywhere and big headphones over your ears, so you were yelling, and that's the only sound I could hear.
In the archives, in the corner of the darkening room, was a man. He had a beard that was white and a pair of truly circular glasses upon his nose. He sat with a small lightbulb above his head.
writing since 2011 · 10 entries · 10 days shown up
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whitehearwindbrightskyfourshineshotantsdarkarchivescornerdarkeningroombeardpair