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Ecru
Category: Writing and Poetry
The dry marsh clay and sulfur A tree twists upwards like a plume in agony The Dead White Sun intensely soaks it all Stalks of legs » Continue Reading
blush
"so long"
20 America
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blush's Blog Entries
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Holly
Category: Blogging
Holly was an angel lost among the clouds. When I opened her door, she was buried under her white duvet, gold hair streaming around the fullness of her cheeks. She didn't say 'come in'. Sometimes, Holly says, she sees this black veil before her eyes, like she's mourning. Like, everything is darker? I ask No, she says, sort of there and not there. Like, when you stare at the Sun and get that spot in... » Continue Reading
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I hate how I write.
Category: Blogging
I hate how I write. I hate that it is so simple, not wacko. Like a meal you've had a thousand times before, a song you only hear at those department clothing stores, or a bad date. My writing is like a bad date. You might say "yes" to this date, out of curiosity. He will ask you out with a single pink rose and wear effeminate cologne, with convincing eyebrows. "Yes" you might say. With enticing p... » Continue Reading
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prey
Category: Blogging
when she got diagnosed, i hated god. but then-all i could do was pray.y'now? i spent every day groveling to the knees of someone so unmerciful. he became death to me, god. i realized that-y'know we don't hear ourselves sometimes because it's all in our head-so i realized that i went from asking god to heal her, to focus his talents on her, and to save her, to asking him to spare her, to be mercifu... » Continue Reading
Fendway College
Category: Writing and Poetry
I've got this one student, name's James. He's pretty popular, all of his friends call him Jude or Jules or something, but I like to keep it professional. James comes in once every month, or once every 4 months, with a busted lip, or no left shoe, or a lit fag in his mouth. I don't really like James. Neither does the administration--Gia tells me all sorts of stories about the pranks he pulls, his o... » Continue Reading
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i frew up
Category: Blogging
marring me. the shell of flesh had nothing left to give. tossed over porcelain careless. tawny acid slid back and forth. slips of hair fell into the toilet, and darkened. there is this low rumbling. knobs knocked together and spun out. here it is. melted rocks erupt, and brimstone builds at the mouth. the land shakes meager might. in total i was sprawled across the bathroom floor and covered in s... » Continue Reading
Rails
Category: Writing and Poetry
I've been on holiday in Wilshire. just noting the wind between the gappy trees and ice ping cool runnings along the rocks. they say I'm broken, but I feel so strong. I look everywhere and it says it back to me, they all smile back with knowing. I've been on trains. long white steel ones. I imagine those wheels piercing and rolling over my thighs. I like walking down those hallways, while its movin... » Continue Reading
Little Princes
Category: Writing and Poetry
... Another interesting excerpt from these transcribed entries concerns a very taboo subject for the early 20ths century. The Queen would detail her miscarriages. April 20th, in His year 1403, No breath beneath their barreled ribs. No blood pumping in their veins. No stare in the eyes. I hold him close, and I cry out for the assailant of such a crime for mercy. I cry out for God. I cry out for not... » Continue Reading
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Wound Up
Category: Writing and Poetry
The world spins under me. I wind up inside. The tension builds to a choking. My rung pinched neck. How is everyone around me so- kinetic? God, they accept transgressions! » Continue Reading
Expressional
Category: Writing and Poetry
Dove wings flapping. Thick envelopes shuffling. Crumpling of leather. A warm tub. Thudding of piano keys. Jingling of bracelets. Tickles behind the ear. » Continue Reading
We (Love Is)
Category: Writing and Poetry
Make a new language and teach it to me. Lets tattoo our creed. Keep my nude polaroids in your wallet. Locks of your hair in my locket. Taste cigarettes on your tongue, a French kiss. Give me children and make them breakfast. Be my muse and I'll be yours. Love is. » Continue Reading