January 2011
70 posts
I feel rather accomplished finishing two chapters...
300 Calories
300 calories. There are two thoughts nagging, pulling in the back of my mind. I call them binging and purging, and they haunt me. I have a secret life of mirrors reflecting lies, reflecting bones; I am my own skeleton inside of my own closet. I eat white porcelain for supper, I eat blue pills for lunch. I cry my feelings into the laps of two men; Ben and Jerry, because they listen best. Then when...
Fragile
She lives in a glass case, one that has never been smudged, shining under the soft glare of the sun. Every night and every day there are people there are people tumbling by flying by on their way to work and school there are people that she watches and learns from. And this girl, you’d think she would have learned from studying from spying all those years from hastily watching from craving a...
The Living Dead Girl
I am torn, I am cut into ribbons of two selves
One, a fledgling war sticking to my ribs,
suffocating my insides with its
sudden and unpredictable moods, with its violent romps
that destroy the barren ground in which it takes its roots.
The other, I find, has many holes
It is being eaten alive by moths by worms,
pleasantly plump off my inner feelings
licking their bloody mouths clean.
I am...
“This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way...”
– The Hollow Men, T.S. Eliot
Zombies
Grey bodies line the hill as they descend from church. Lightning grieves them and they moan, approaching the spiked, iron gates Tripping past the weeds that spark, like great electric fences, from the dying Earth. Too heavy, they march into the concrete rivers and moaning, they engulf the town like locus. Too heavy, their shoulders droop and their knees cave Crying black, dried tears like mud...
Tall body you’ve got to bury, she said, and I think she must have read my mind. I think she must have known that I was reading The Bell Jar and I think she must have known I thought of death. She laughed and I laughed because I didn’t know what she meant but now I think I might have known and simply chosen to forget.
There were other people around us - swimming, drifting - but no one...
Miss Mannequin
I am fashioning a mannequin
with simple, elegant curves and black coal-like buttons
She has soft, cotton casings. She has pure, ivory legs.
But I can’t find her blue eyes, and I can’t find her hair
I can’t find her precious lips, and I can’t find her long white nails
There she stands before me, unbreathing like a corpse
Simply being, simply being
And there she stands...
Dark Lover
You are the devastation I face every day
the sad shelter dogs, the starving African children, the Katrina families in need
You are the haze, the fog, the inescapable thicket of vines and I
can’t seem to find my out
I can’t seem to break the lines and break the ice between the boundaries that keep us
distanced, what makes my up go down, what makes your grasp so stifling so
...
Needful Things
Sometimes I forget that I’m confident and no matter what I wear, or what I drink, or who I’m seen with, or what I say, etc. can change that fact. Sometimes I completely forget that I have no reason to criticize myself, because sometimes, I simply get bored and spend my time eying my figure in the wall-to-wall bathroom mirror.
Sometimes I forget that I can’t stand any straighter,...
Save Yourself
Stop.
Now taste the coffee as it slips down your throat
and warms your insides, your chest, your stomach
Open your blinds
welcome the sunshine, the air, the sounds of the city
Escape into reality
because your wildest imagination can’t compare to the real thing
Step outside and feel the ice beneath your feet, the snow
But let life’s heat keep you warm
Save the grin on your lips...
There are
horrible people
liars
theifs
killers
pagans
There are
dangers
evils
corrupting
peeling away lives
skinning goodness, killing virtue
It is
gossip
it is scorn
it is hatred, hatred, hatred, loathing
fiery passion for nothing for paths that lead to dead ends for money for
greed.
And aren’t we the greatest that the world ever saw?
And aren’t we superior in every...
The Garden
Last night I dreamt of Vodka of smoke of
curling, cringing, I dreamt of lies
Lies of warmth and artificial liquor that grows
roses all liquid grows roses when roses are called for
black petals, dying petals, grey and limping stems.
I dreamt of a garden where everything dies
and nothing is fresh because nothing is new and
soil is evil,
nature never has a say in this man-made garden.
The...
She looked like sex and smelled like smoke
with her fish nets, too tight, five inch heels that could kill and
red lips and black hair
sitting on strangers’ laps, drinking her weight in gin.
She was
lonely and afraid
she was
dying, broken, sad, she was tumbling into something without
a way out
without direction
and so she kept running into the dark
without a light to lead her way.
...
Moving On
She sobbed until her nose ran and her throat was sore, and she hit her fist against the fragile black desk, cursing the day her thoughts had overridden her logic. She sought help before she pulled the trigger and read that “Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds resources for coping.” and those words brought her back to reality, and those words made her cry harder.
Death...
Pixie Dust
I’ve always wanted to save the world and I’ve always seen the good in people, but pixie dust is expensive and miracles aren’t made to order. I suppose the universe doesn’t want its good vs. evil balance distorted.
And even though SPARCC never answers my calls when I want to volunteer, and Girl Scouts don’t do anything to benefit society if it doesn’t benefit...
Tom Waits - Dead and Lovely
“Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have immortal longings in me.”
– Cleopatra, Antony and Cleopatra
Dreaming of Diamonds
Last night I dreamt of a winter wonderland -
my lawn was coated in patches of perfect snow
of smooth, white ice
and the trees were dripping with diamonds.
The snow tasted like sugar
the sweetest, powdery candy
and I ate it until my tongue swelled from the cold.
And I danced until it fell from the sky
like beautiful Victorian ladies,
careful not to step on their skirts.
Front Doors
There’s a woman next door scolding her dog
and some guy in his front yard smoking a cigarette
and an old man across the street mowing the lawn
and there are hundreds of cars passing by.
We share the common ground of our front yards,
fried and dried from too much sun - the sunshine state where
neighbors wear shorts in the middle of January
and sweat mowing their lawns
We share a...
Brown Eyes
Champagne and coffee, Eyes like chocolate covered raspberries Not quite black, not quite rationed. Light extinguished, cake rotting Streams of charcoal black on tawny skin. Oh, a violation! Souls ravaged and raped, Pillaged You primitive, viking man. Standing with the lights off Step left, stage center Shine a light on the bastard. Deliver his victim from grief.
He slipped into her room into her bed into her mind
he died laughing when she cried
He hugged, nudged, and cuddled his way
into her heart and she didn’t mind being alone
not until he rubbed her the wrong way too many times
and once upon a time they loved each other.
There is a time to deny
to confess
to bargain
to hate.
I call him scum
I call him
the poster child for a...
The Breakfast Club
Allison: When you grow up, your heart dies.
John: So, who cares?
Allison: I care.
“Beware, Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like...”
– Lady Lazarus
multifoliaterose asked: Shameless plug: http://multifoliaterose.tumblr.com/post/2530929397/jake
But there's my secret. :)
But there's my secret. :)
And we’ve got pages of time
hours of coffee
We’ve got piles of unread books, dusty covers
We’ve got hot showers and bricks walls
in our apartment
We’ve got mismatch cups - yellow, green
and a retro dining table that sits atop a fuzzy orange carpet
We drink champagne every night, in I Love NYC mugs
and it’s not classy
but it’s not trashy either
because...
I can feel it rising up in my throat in my throat choking me
and I gasp for air and I can’t say a word because it has me weezing
for breath for words for something to say for permission to speak
but I can never quite say it, never quite shape my lips to form the words I want.
My words are sporadic and random and
no one ever understands me - melodramatic girl, attention whore
Cry...
themidnighreview:
St. Vincent - Paris is...
I hope you know
I can’t do this every night
This isn’t fun
You’re not fun, not in this state of mind.
I don’t want to listen to you talk about saving the world
I don’t want to listen to you talk about what you read in the paper
or what happened at work
or what role you landed
or what your co-workers did on their break
or what you didn’t do on your own.
...
traum-gespenst asked: Do you really think the normal ones are really the crazy ones, and that you and I are really so 'average' even though others (and you know who I mean) say that we're 'troubled' or 'disturbed' for what we write, read, and watch?
Faire de Beaux Rêves
A Paris hotel.
Our room, with billowing chiffon curtains and Egyptian cotton sheets, thread count: 1000. Venetian panels, silver dishes and pure white china, Persian rugs, delicate iron work on balcony railings, French doors, glossy scrolled wallpaper. The Eiffel Tower, an iron beauty, standing strong in the distance.
I, layered in pearls, layered in silk and nothing more. A carpet bag filled...
Spoiled
College boys wave her in as she stares through the thin, glass doors
of some brick building, of some bar.
Corruption.
They buy her a drink and it’s enough to intoxicate, to adulterate
her morals
and she falls into their toned arms
with drunken poise and rotten breath
and sheds vodka kisses on every boy, on every perfect cheek
and she is chosen to fall victim, to fall from grace.
...
Leeches
I can’t repeat the words I hear sputtered from the mouths of the leeches that draw life from the house which I reside in. They suck the thoughts from my veins and replace mine with their own until I can’t hear over the volume of foreign evils. They are a medical disease; the virus, not the cure They will drain me until I’m dry.
Just heartbreaking...
One day I’ll make billions and restore Detroit, with historical accuracy, to its once beautiful state.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/gallery/2011/jan/02/photography-detroit?intcmp=239#/?picture=370173052&index=10
Positive posters
hung like the worst of cliches.
Tired, overused.
Things that make your toes curl
Things that make your lips red
I’ve got some cravings right now
and they’ve got nothing to do with food.
writingspeechless:
every
stab
in
the
back
reminds
me
to
stand
straighter
Anonymous asked: Life is an odd thing, and many a person takes it for granted. All of the people who continue living, have what they think is a reason to life. Not everyone knows it, what's yours?
Oh Lord,
she bought soaps to match the soap dispenser.
Erm, pointless much?
sailingaugust asked: Your words are beautiful. The way you write is honest and real.
-Nicole
-Nicole
andthegoldrush asked: Your dream home; what would it be like?
The Well
I once sat in the bottom of a well
cleverly curled away from the sunlight
and hidden in the damp shadows
where my body could rot in peace.
Now I watch the empty hole from atop
tip toeing across the stone rim
playing with gravity
and wondering when I’ll tumble in again.
The thing is
the well can never be measured, it doesn’t have a depth
and no matter how many times I slip
...
The Triumvirate
There once was an African queen with a dark yet empowering gene. Her lovers were many her thoughts, worth a penny. Cleopatra! A sight to be seen. A war brought him far from his land to a palace much greater than grand. At first, Caesar doubted But Alas! Cleo routed his thoughts to fulfill what she planned. An heir was soon born to the ruler A son! Cleo cried, it would suit her. But then tragedy...
Writers
An ink quill. They are black lines, black blots They are spilled, liquid metal Thick like tar, like clay. Sticking to shoes, leaving footprints behind like grey gum tiny ink prints - smudges - a record of rubbed ink. This is our mark our silent protest written in bold, bold. This is the ink in our palms in the cracks of our rusted fingers stuck like a tunnel where the pen should fit. We are the...
Ink Stained Heart: I’ve always felt like a fish... →
myinkstainedheart:
I’ve always felt like a fish out of water and I needed to be flung back to sea. How much I dream of leaving and escaping this barren, crusted land that vaguely resemble my vision of a home I cannot tell you. You should know I am dying here.
I am a vagabond, walking over coarse sand, in constant…
Vampire Weekend - Oxford Comma
Saturday and Sunday
There are two days which I like to call
an escape
hidden away in a tiny wooden house on a tropical island
where the waves crashing against the shore are the only sound.
These days I wake to
sunlight streaming in through the blinds and
the lull of traffic passing by
slughishly;
inching out of bed is a happy process.
These days, I call them the weekend
are for my eyes only to see, for only...