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[21 Oct 2005|03:10pm] |
i am afraid sometimes
when i close my eyes
and i hear your voice
and it's telling me lies
saying you're near me
that i can hold you
if i but reach for you
my arms will enfold you
but when i turn
you're not there
and the screams
they build in my chest
and my heart nearly stops
and the pain starts to crest
and i so want to touch you
to caress you
to smell you
but when i reach for you
you're not there
and i so want to run
til my legs break
and i can't think straight
and i escape the hollow ache
and i hate that i miss you
that i can't see you
can't kiss you
but, when i beg for you
you're not there
so when this day ends
and i punch the clock
when my work here is done
i WILL scream
i WILL run
i will die just to touch you
to feel you, to hug you
give my soul just to kiss you
and when i open my eyes.
you will be there.
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[21 Oct 2005|02:56pm] |
And we dance,
clumsy as children
one misstep at a time
til we fall laughing and crying
clinging and dying
into the foam
And We roll
head over feet
arms locked in terror
til we crash screaming and bleeding
surging and receding
like waves
And We love
With desperate abandon
like two slightly broken fools
til we rise, breathing and living
taking and giving
from the sea.
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| operation gestation: drabble |
[15 Oct 2005|09:46pm] |
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Circling wildly, arms up, head back. Naked in the arms of an invisible lover. He steals airy kisses and carries to me promises of honeysuckle and freedom. The trees sigh with me. He is kissing them, too. Damp, cool, damp, cool. My feet press the tender grass, bruising it. Heavy, slick; I step to the side for his most intimate of touches. His scent is on my skin, in the hair that slides then slaps where his mouth has just been. I hear my heart in my steps. Hear his lies. I am warm. I am cherished. And I fall. (100)
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[15 Sep 2005|10:01pm] |
Scream little butterfly
with all of your might.
Shriek your indignance
into the light.
Your fragile wings
to velvet pinned.
Give flight to the pain
raging within.
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[30 Aug 2005|09:29pm] |
She lay on her belly absently twirling a few strands of her hair around her index finger. Her eyes were intent on the little ants crawling around below her. The scurried this way and that hurriedly working on thier little ant city. A skirmish broke out here and there and occasionally she could see little ants falling in love and happily traveling on to their little ant destinations. Everything seemed to have such purpose. Everyone had a job to do and a life to live and none of them, even the lazy little ants, or the ants who looked a bit drunk or high, had any idea that she was watching them. So absorbed were they in their little ant games. Her eyes narrowed and darkened. She hated them. She hated the fact that they lived their lives so obliviously to everything else around them and to the fact that their little anthill was cluttering up the place.
With a smile that looked like anything but what a smile should, she stirred the great mud puddle near them into a frenzy and then slapped great waves of muddy water into their little ant paths. She sat up and clapped her hands with glee as they swam for their little ant lives. Cackled as they drowned and their little city turned into a great lake filled with debris and filth. Bored now that they had begun turning on one another and their death thoes were no longer as frantic or satisfying, she lifted her hands over her head and simply ceased to be.
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| Three Years Ago: Echoes of Dreams |
[10 Aug 2005|03:29pm] |
I wake up and wonder at the vast emptiness of my world.
I walk to the grocery store down the road, waving to neighbors I don't know along the way. I could take the car, but nah, I want to walk. It's a small town and I feel like being a small-town girl.
I think about my dream while I walk. The Kay Sage-like feel of it all.
A voice jumps up and down on the string of thought I'd been beading together.
"Christina?"
"Eurghn."
"Christina! HI. It's ____."
"Oh! Right! Hello," I reply.
The girl is maybe one year older than I am. She has a faded black denim jacket on, too big. Her jeans are acid wash, her hair is short and thin and black. Her tennis shoes are white and scuffed into a gray raggedness. I have no idea who she is, but she remembers me or some person I used to be, that I can only remember shedding.
"Remember me from Ms. Ramsey's class in junior high?"
"Oh, yes, right!" I say with conviction. I remember the class.
The small blond child around her leg glares up at me for stealing these moments with his mother. The death wish in his eyes tells me to include him now, and share, like a good kid would.
"So you have children!" I exclaim. The boy buries his face in his mother's knee.
The baby in her arms yanks its own hair in a fist and cries right over her mother's reply.
"What?" I ask.
"I said, yes! I've been married a couple of years now. . . this is __ and __."
"Hello," I say, lame and in recovery of a very bad dream.
"So, what are you doing now? You work? Married?" this girl I once knew asks me.
A few moments in the Louisiana sun, and this small talk has me feeling like murder. I sweat and I think about gray fragments jumping off of my palm, soft like scars. . .
"I remember how much I used to love watching you and Paige in class," she says. I stop reminiscing about my fantasy world long enough to eye her with deep and self-loathing scrutiny.
"Me and Paige?" I echo.
"Yes! You two were so funny together, always interrupting class, and making jokes. God, how Mrs. Ramsey just hated you!"
"Almost as much as I hated her, I bet," I say, and I stare at the Coke machine next to us. I follow the curled text of the Coca-Cola label with my eyes, and I think of how much I. . .
"Well, my husband's waiting, it was nice to see you again! REALLY nice. I don't think we've ever talked before, but I remember you very well from school, from junior. . ."
The sun melts my dialogue away, after our goodbyes: My goodbye and 'good luck with life' was awkward-- Woman, I never knew you.
I stumble into the grocery store, assaulted by that thick musty dirt smell coming out of a box of potatoes and carrots. I walk into the frozen section, and I think about supper.
"Something old; an old favorite," I whisper to an unconcerned box of sun raisins.
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[24 Jul 2005|01:17am] |
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People are such asshats at times.
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[09 Jul 2005|06:02pm] |
"She was SMILING! I mean, I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, and she had a God damned smile on her face! Can you believe it? The bitch was actually enjoying herself. How can she be so fucking cruel?" Alyssa's eyes narrowed and her Really Red #5 lipstick covered lips pulled back into a sneer. "I mean. I could see her, just sitting there, GLOATING." As she said the last word she jammed the lipstick coated filter of her Marlboro between her lips and bore down on the task of cracking open the fresh bottle of Taaka vodka with a vengeance. When the lid, knowing better than to resist a very pissed off little Cajun woman, came loose she set it down on the table with a rather satisfying thump. She yanked the cigarette from her mouth and spewed forth an angry puff of smoke so that she could resume her tirade. "I mean, there's everyone else all crying and shit, but...no, not her, and she's the one who should have been. She could have done the right thing and pulled a fucking nose hair."
Tarra's eyes moved to the yellowed ceiling of the tiny trailer. A pillar of patience she sat still while her sister ranted over the behavior of their dear step mama. Without even thinking about it, she slid two ice filled glasses in Alyssa's general direction and picked up a bottle of off brand soda to use as a mixer. This was gonna be a long night. With a sigh she directed her attention to the petite woman across from her and stifled a smile. It would do little good to smile at this point and might end her up with a blackened eye for her effort so she just waited for the anger to run its course and the tears to start. That was the usually way of things. Alyssa’s emotions always swam at the bottom of the bottle, all except anger. She did anger well and she was doing that right now.
"Tarra? Tarra? Are you LISTENING to me?" Alyssa's small hand slapped down on the cracked table top, HARD. So hard that the bottle of vodka felt the need to hop around a bit in support of her righteous ire. "What? Oh yeah, nose hairs. I'm sure she will cry later when everyone has gone. Maybe it was just one of those fake smiles that you plaster on to get through a tough situation." Even Tarra knew she was grasping on that one. Their step mother WAS a witch. A horrible cruel woman who had only married their daddy for his money, though he didn't have much of it left after being with her for five years. Alyssa and Tarra lived sparingly and off of money they earned themselves, but, in the last five years, even their Christmas presents had begun to taper. Tarra and Alyssa had originally chalked it up to the flagging economy and problems in the oil field, but then the new things started appearing all over the house and their step mother, Naomi, had begun wearing nicer and nicer clothes, and then sensible car she owned when she had met their father had just "broken" so of course she had to have a new one, and the new one HAD to be a good one so that she didn't get stranded on the side of the road during on of her many shopping trips that took her all over the Gulf. "Look Alyssa, I agree, Naomi is a money grubbing witch, but, for some reason known only to GOD and Daddy, he loved her and so we have just got to accept it. He married her and the law says she gets half and the rest is split between us." Alyssa leveled a look of sheer hatred on her sister at the mention of the unmentionable one's name and downed about half of her highball of vodka and soda. "If there's anything left."
(to be continued some more)
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| the art of forgetting your own birthday |
[09 Jul 2005|12:16pm] |
The revolving door of my memories
I walk in and out and around
Looking for a clue
Something old to make new
Something I've missed
A dream I can't remember
What happened to the bliss
Of last September?
[random bad poetry.]
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| Choas rules and the sky has seriously undertaken bleeding my own personal ocean of glittering death |
[07 Jul 2005|12:24am] |
"The sky is bleeding."
...
"Can you hear me?"
...
"Wake up."
"What?"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"What am I going to do about what?"
"I said the sky is BLEEDING."
"Oh. Okay."
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"What are you going to do about it?"
"Huh?"
"What are you going to do?"
"With what?"
"The SKY."
"The sky?"
"Yes, the sky... it's BLEEDING!"
"Yes, we have established that, I believe. No need to shout."
...
...
...
"Ahem"
"What?"
"I said... the sky..."
"I know. I know. I've gotten the point."
"What are you...?"
"Going to do about it?"
"Yes, that."
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Exactamundo."
"You can't do that."
"Can't do what?"
"Nothing."
"Hide and watch."
"But, the sk..."
"If you say that one more time..."
"Well, really. What do you plan to do?"
"Nothing. Let it bleed? Tune you out and sleep a bit longer?"
"Wake up."
"Go away."
"Wake up or drown in an ocean of glittering death while you could be supping with the queen."
"The queen doesn't sup with the likes of me, now, go away, you're making me itch."
"No one will be supping anywhere unless you wake up this instant!"
"And this is my problem... why?"
"Because, you will drown right along with the rest of us."
"At least it would be quiet."
"Fine. Sleep. And when the queen comes to lop of your beautiful head for standing idly by while her kingdom is washed away, will your nap have been worth it then?"
"Perhaps."
"This is serious Glynrhanna. At least open your eyes and look at me."
"With a low growl rumbling deep in her rather impressive chest, Glynrhanna opened one wildly flickering opal eye. The reptilian slit of her pupil shrank as she focused on the annoying presence perched on the tip of her nose. The same reptilian orb took on a sinister predatory glint for a moment and the rumble intensified. The tiny woman leapt to her feet and pushed off with a squeal to hover several inches above the dragon's nose.
ea green eyes narrowed with ire, the startled pixie began to change to an alarming shade of red. Her golden tresses danced as if caught in some private tempest. As her body began to vibrate, her wing beats became louder and the sound of bells that sang from her very being became a disharmonious screech. The dragon Glynrhanna began to quake as well; she began to chuckle. Both eyes were open now, and sparkled with amusement.
"Well now, good job Ashtielle. I'm awake. The queen will be pleased."
Ahstielle's small frame vibrated so that she could no longer maintain a steady hover. Much to the delight of a cackling Glynrhanna, the pixie's small mouth could do no more than contort into several different scowls. It was as if she had very literally reached her boiling point. Knowing her vexation must be released before she exploded into bits of angry pixie, she flung her arm out with such force that she skipped backward in the air. She let loose with a string of the foulest curses known to faery-kind.
Glyrhanna gave way to a belly laugh that fairly shook the chamber and raised the temperature several degrees with sudden warmth. Her deep rumbles intermingled with the high pitched screeching for several long moments until poor Ashtielle seemed deflated. Only the dragon's laughter echoed.
"Very funny you Great, Ugly, Toad!" shouted Ashtielle who had managed to work down to a slightly pink color, though she looked too spent to get anywhere near her former splendor. Eyes that had deepened to a sickly, greenish-black had now faded to a glittering emerald. Her little body could only sustain such rage for a limited time. For now, she was just a little miffed. To anyone but Glynrhanna this could be dangerous.
"Toad? Me? A great ugly toad you say? And what would you be if not a nasty dung sniffing fly?" Glynrhanna's eyes flashed dangerously as she pushed herself up and sat on her haunches. Even the angry pixie could not deny that the dragon's movement was awe-inspiring. To look upon her, even disoriented and angry, made tears threaten to spill down Ashtielle's cheeks.
Glynrhanna was all that was beautiful in this world, and she knew it. The looming female paused to allow the light to reflect from her massive form, knowing that any being who set eyes on her would disagree with the now fearful and silent pixie's hastily spoken insult. But, Glynrhanna was vain and did not take well to insult. Her ribs expanded as she sucked in a great gulp of air, filling out her chest. Her movement and stance was confident as she gave the trembling Ashtielle a chance to get a good, long look at her in the dragon's most flattering stance.
Glynrhanna lifted a [feathered] brow and awaited the apology. She knew the pixie would not disappoint her. It was a well-known fact that pixies did not appreciate the finer points of being roasted alive, frozen, or chomped, or any of the other painful deaths she could provide. And provide them she would, if the pixie did not satisfy the great dragon's need for flattery.
"I... I didn't mean it, Glynny. I was angry. Forgive me. Please?" A creature of extremes and chameleon-like in her appearance, the pixie had gone pale, white, and shimmery. It was as though Glynny had already carried out the threat implied by that great gesture.
Mollified, Glynnrhanna settled back onto her belly, but kept her head up to observe her little companion.
"What do you want, Ashtielle?" Her tone made it known that she was not in the mood for fun and games. But it no longer implied that there might be pixie-kabobs for dinner.
"Want? Oh.Yeah. As I was saying, the sky is bleeding and the queen is livid! She wants the problem fixed. NOW. Or so she said, right before she flicked me right out of the air like a bug," the pixie spat.
Ashtielle's indignation was evident by her colors and the disharmonious sounds emanating from her. "Like a bug, Glynny. A common bug, undeserving of respect as the future ruler of her people!"
Glyn's look was quizzical. "What is my role in all of this? Can the all-powerful queen not just command it to stop? She seems to think herself capable of controlling not only her own pathetic race of people, but every other race as well. Didn't the sheer weight of her commanding tone cause the sky to dry right up and the end of the world to halt, simply because she deemed it so?"
With a tortured sigh the little pixie settled on the tip of a rather large mountain of horde stock and then flopped down on her back dramatically. "Obviously not, oh beautiful one, else I would not be here waking you and risking the skin on my tender nether regions. I'd rather be dancing with the Shimmers to make the morning dew. Your role in this is that you are a dragon, and therefore in control of the very sky itself. Before you ask about your reward, you are being offered a barrel of gold and a virgin."
Her voice wavered a little at the virgin part and she awaited Glyn's response, knowing it would be amusing.
This time the movement of the dragon was less graceful as she reared back in shock and disgust.
"A VIRGIN!? And just what, pray tell, would I want with a virgin? I have no need of such things. I don't eat them because the taste of human flesh offends me, as it does all of my kind. Where do people come up with these things?" She let out a long hiss of breath that alternately froze and then heated the water molecules in the air it passed; the effect being quite an impressive mix of shifting steam and ice particles infused with ever-shifting colors. And then just like that it was gone. The dragon rolled her eyes and wobbled her head.
"I mean, one senile old dragon decides to take a bite out of the feast of roasted meats and fruits that some fearful villagers lay out at the top of a neighboring mountain, and HAPPENS to get a bite of the hapless virgin they staked in the middle, and all of a sudden everyone thinks they can make us do anything by offering us a virgin!? Now up the gold, or maybe dip the virgin into it, and we will talk." The dragon huffed softly. "Until then the queen can sacrifice every unopened maiden of every species she wishes, and I will not lift one talon to help."
With that said, Glynnrhanna flopped down with a rather unlady-like thump and snorted.
"Virgin! Humph. As if I were some rutting human boar in need of some poor wench's flesh! How insulting. I ought to go and freeze her solid. The very idea!"
Ashtielle managed to contain her mirth to hear a few more moments of bitter mumbling before it was simply too much for her. She dissolved into peals of laughter and music. So violent was her fit, that her skin changed a shade of pale blue right before she rolled right off of her gilded perch and landed with a thump onto her backside.
"Ouch!"
"Serves you right for laughing."
"Well it was funny," the pixie tittered. "I couldn't help it. I figured you wouldn't find the virginal offerings as amusing as I did. But think of it this way: You don't have to do it for the queen, and if she gives you a virgin you could always barter for more gold or jewels, or keep the virgin around to polish your pretties. When she gets very old you can guild her. And then she would have all of these wondrous shiny wrinkles that would do well to set precious stones in. She might make a nice addition to your collection of beautiful things." The pixie paused. "Or you could fly so very high with her, and let her go to see if she bounced right on top of the Queen's nice, pretty, WHITE castle."
Ashtielles little pink tongue stuck out just the tiniest bit as her face lit with spiteful glee at the prospect of such a very pretty mess and such a very naughty act performed upon the very annoying queen.
"Just think of how angry she would be!" the pixie guffawed. "Perhaps we should demand twelve virgins!" With that she clapped her wee hands and began to wiggle with anticipation of such a sport.
Glynnrhanna lifted her head and looked directly at her friend.
"You CAN'T be serious," the appalled dragon began. "Do you know how long those things live and how bad they smell? And who would have to feed and wash the wretched thing? Surely not I! Then there's the chance that she might TOUCH my horde." Glynnrhanna actually shuddered at the thought of the virgin's greasy flesh tainting her precious pretties. "I don't think so."
"Speaking of horde," the pixie snapped, "if you don't put an end to the flood of heavenly carnage that is gushing at quite the alarming rate from the bosom of Heaven herself, your horde will be covered in Goddess gore. Won't be quite so nice then, will it?" She crossed her arms and arched a brow. "Besides, though eternity would be a grand adventure, and the mess would be disgustingly lovely, one would no longer even need a horde. And there is such mischief I have not had the chance to wreak in this plane..."
The pixie looked torn between the option of life in the familiar, or the spectacular messiness that death would be for a fleeting moment. But her point about Glynnrhanna's horde already had the beast rising to her feet.
"Well, we can always give the virgin to the dwarves in appreciation of all of their hard work, right before we raid their mines for horde stoc," the dragon reasoned. "She should keep them busy for awhile, though her children will be ugly."
She stretched with flawless grace for a creature so large, and gave herself a dignified shake that caused her scales to clank together like some giant coat of chainmail.
Within moments, she had navigated the labyrinth of twists and turns that made up the entrance to her deep underground lair. She kept a very low flame flickering directly in front of her. The sulfurous smell and the light, magnified by her thousands of highly reflective scales, kept the unsavory wildlife that she cultivated at bay. Nothing that lived here could hurt her, but she had no desire to have anything unsavory mar her newly polished armour. Hours of preening was hard work, after all, and not to mention tedious. But no maiden dragon would be caught looking less than lustrous, especially since her horns were finally coming in.
She tossed her head a bit and reveled in the new weight she felt atop her giant skull. Everyday she filled out a little more was that much closer to adulthood.
So lost was she in her musing that she almost did not hear the beat of wings right outside the entrance to her home.
She paused and glanced from the pixie to the shimmering place in the rock that served as her entrance. With a quiet nod, Ashtielle flitted cautiously toward the spellbound wall to see what could be causing the noise. Nothing was visible just outside, so she landed and walked out. She sneaked quietly around the great boulder that Glynnrhanna had used dragon magic to carve into a kind of foyer. The pixie could see very well through darkness.
On the other side of the rock she saw nothing, at first. But then a snuffling noise drew her a little to the left, and she froze. Terror seeped into her blood and she crouched low to the ground hoping the beast had not sensed her.
The biggest male dragon Ashtielle had ever seen was hovering over the ground directly above where her friend was frozen, he must have heard them moving beneath the earth and was trying to decide if what he heard was a mate, or a provider of horde stock. In the way of the very aggressive males of Glynnrhanna's species, provider would mean dinner, of course.
Due to the fact that Glynnrhanna's horns weren't quite mature, she would fall under the latter category. Male dragons were cunning, lethal, and thankfully very rare. She felt Glynnrhanna's consciousness at the back of her neck and allowed her friend access into her mind for just one moment-- hoping that the male would not pick up her thoughts as well.
She felt Glynnrhanna's fear and excitement, and for a brief moment wondered if her friend really was old enough to end up as anything other than dinner. She had paused long enough to realize that she no longer saw the intruder.
The thought she sent to Glynnrhanna was a loud and desperate one: "RUUUN!!" She followed her own advice and flew as fast as she could back into the opening in the rock. Her fear had turned her a ghastly shade of gray. Despite her mind-numbing terror, instinct took over and she began flinging fay magic to disorient anything coming behind her.
The male dragon didn't actually NEED to come behind her; he was a full-grown male who could very easily just fly high and plummet down right into the ground after his prey. She began to sing to whatever life would listen, beginner protection from the scaled menace she knew to be stalking her friend.
No male dragon was known to just give up and go away, especially if he thought there might be food and gold in it for him.
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| obligatory intro. |
[07 Jul 2005|12:04am] |
This is a place of chaos created by someone with nothing better to do. In this place, with a few strokes of the keys: God is decidedly female, undeniably a few shades lighter than perfect, and an exhibitionist... or two. Blaspheme if you wish, worship if you please, preferably with your mouth, but, we'll take your soul if you have nothing better. This is the planchette to the Intergalactic Ouija board and you are the pimply-faced geek pissing yourself in the dark. Some of the posts here will be friends-locked in case anyone ever decides to come to the temple, others will be public.
Ever been mind-fucked by Sybil? Well, grease up and bend over because here it comes.
Cheers.
Comment to be added. Or not.
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