Daily Read

Journal Entries of a French Teenage Girl

July 20^th, 1789

            Today my pa left with a bunch of other men unknown to me, to go fetch some gunpowder and arms. Rumors have been passed around that perhaps, Louis is planning to use military forces to destroy the National Assembly. Wouldn't that be a shame? After all they have gone through to establish it... Others say other foreign troops are commin' to get us. They're afraid our movement will inspire other countries to do the same. We're in danger every second of the day, but I'm not sure which I would prefer; dying of starvation, or of a sword blow. It's just too horrible to think about.

            My pa didn't let my ma go―says it would be too dangerous. The worst part is―he didn't even eat before he went! Says we need the energy. I guess it's true that a few lumps of dry bread from the other day is not much, but it's better than going on a mission on an empty stomach. My pa's a good man. He ain't ever selfish.

July 23^rd, 1789 Read more »

To whom it may concern 

i'll take my final breath

inhale a sense of madness

exhale a sense of death

as I take my final breath

of death I will learn

i'll tell about it to 

whom it may concern. 

One dandelion seed touches down,

Drifting through dreary skies,

Helping you believe

That this simplifies your life;

Because you choose to have faith

That the tiny things will solve

Those scary silhouettes of

Vague problems, the ones

That are just too hard to fix.

Two pedal s gone,

You’ve got three to left,

And you know that you’ve set it up so

That love me not is not the last one to go.

But four will be the number

Of leaves you’ll find on this clover,

So keep it with you forever,

For you know karma

Will never forget that

Five petal flower

I remember the night Creme gave birth so well. I had been checking on her all day. I kept pacing the barnyard, kicking the dirt floor. It was Creme's first time giving birth and I was nervous. I couldn't wait for it to be over so I could stop worrying.

At 7:30 p.m. her waterbag broke and she wasn't progressing. If a birth is going well, a lamb presents with front legs and head forward and is born shortly afterward. This lamb's nose appeared with its tongue hanging out. The legs were pulled back which made the shoulders block the cervix.

I had been waiting for this day a long time. I had decided I wanted to assist. The long plastic glove crackled as I put it on my right hand. My dad squirted a blue lubricant known as "Superlube" onto the glove. Shakily and slowly, I inched forward and knelt to put my hand into Creme's birth canal. It felt like lava, so hot and wet. I could feel the lamb's head and chin. I was so anxious, my eyes were stinging. I could see the lamb's tongue was starting to turn blue and knew the situation was becoming very serious. I asked my dad to take over because he has been assisting ewes give birth for many years. My mom held Creme as my dad put on a glove and lube and reached in. Dad hooked one leg and brought it forward, thinking it would be enough to pull the lamb out, but the lamb was really stuck. The shoulders were too broad. Read more »

Leaving the Attic

The small Colorado town faded to dust, an old picture filed away in an attic in a cardboard box. A rented Ford Explorer passed by it without a thought, as many others had done before. The Explorer rattled down the dirt road, slipping through a National Park Service checkpoint. The words of the park ranger who stood there would follow it all the way to the top. 

“Welcome to Mesa Verde.” 

The car followed the invisible tire tracks of hundreds of others who had traveled this land. It wound around the mesa, following the coils of the steep dirt path. Climbing the road like a spiral staircase, its passengers gazed at the tiny town below. Buildings that you could balance on your fingertip, cars that could easily fit inside a thimble, people you needed a microscope to see. The car continued to twist around the tower like a wind-up toy, alone in the peaceful calm of rural Colorado.  Read more »

I never understood running,the sport, I mean. What’s the point? It’s not like other sports. Other sports make sense. Sports with goals and rules and points.But I guess that’s what people love about running. There’s no rules, no limits, no restrictions. I guess people like me are just so used to having some guidelines in their life, they don’t understand why anyone would live any other way. Read more »

Groups of girls, whispering lies.

I hate the way they generalize.

She’s the new girl, shy and weak.

I don’t think she even speaks. Read more »

Dreamer.wav

You appeared several times Read more »

I wish I had never let you get so close to me. 
I'm at this point where you envelope into me and take my breath away to this day even after so many dawns. 
Oh my aching bones feel all this weight. I'm holding both of us because I know on the surface this is all an act. 
A simple mind game we play tweaked by jokes and immaturity. Simple harmonies and unknown velocities swallow me. I can't hold on much longer. 
Take me please, let me be free. 
I wish I never replied. 
I'm at a place where not responding to you means losing you word by word. Read more »

Dear bully, Read more »

There is a man in the forest of leather and bone,

who runs like the wind on feet made of stone.

Over the river-woven meadows he flies,

surrounded by beauty and hidden from lies.

His hair is earth-colored, and his eyes such a green

that the trees declare it’s the deepest they’ve seen.

His mind is as innocent as the eyes of a doe—

an animal at heart, his humanity in tow.

He is sure he is one with his birthplace, his source,

unaware that his destiny will alter mid-course.

There is a land hidden from his world of lush greenery,

a curious place with something odd called ‘machinery.’

This inquisitive man, his feet all entangled

soon leaves his bed to seek rumors finagled

from birds chattering on through green lattices,

speaking of fire and unnatural apparatuses.

Thus he sails from his homeland, a baby, of sorts, Read more »

Reflections

Lit only by the moon

In a shadow of her own

I watched a broken girl

Read a forgotten poem.

She wrote it long ago

Back when she was young

She reads it with a smile

Her tales of summer fun

That smile turns to tears

She screams into the night

"Lost are all those memories

Lost too is the light..."

I wanted then to tell her

The shadows just don't stay Read more »

I tell myself that I am better than you. That you can't break me. 

I tell myself I'm not broken, just a little bent. 

But you push me down and swallow me into a place I am trapped in. This untouchable place where walls trap me.

Heavy breathing and warm tears instantly try to choke me up even more, you take pleasure at this.

You remind me of all my wrongs, all the words left unsaid, and all the pain buried deep within me.

You keep fighting with me and I am helpless.

Where is my knight in shining armor now? Where is my prince with promises kept and secrets shared to catch me?

You just remind me what I hate to tell myself.

He is gone. He isn't there. He never was there for you.

I feel dizzy with all this coming to my head.

Every second, every moment wrapped into my head until I can barely breathe.

But I tell myself I am fine.

You are like blue foxgloves, a figment of my vivid imagination.

You don't exist, you are simply me. 

Telling myself why I am so imperfect. It's all in my head. It's all just my vivid imagination. 

the forgotten memory was sparked as she froze close and could hear his breathing

a swarm of monarch butterflies filled her small inside called a stomach

hoping for something

and this hope brought her back

back to her memory of the night.

they were standing in a line just like they were told

girl in front of boy, waiting for instruction.

she was nervous

terrified

yet content

who knew how he felt?

she had no intentions of

slowly backing,

back 

back

millimeter by millimeter

plowing through think mud

until her back was against his front

their bodies Read more »

Another stranger knows me

From head to toe

Ears to nose

And everything in between.

Another monochromatic room and

Another couch that's comfortable enough

To make you feel like you can let your guard down.

Another retelling of a story

That doesn't even feel like it's mine anymore.

Another referral

Another insurance call

And another set of uncomfortable questions and answers

That we've both heard a million times before.

And after all the times that 

I've exposed myself to these strangers

(While staring deep in to 

Ivory walls and sandpaper carpets)

I've learned that 

The value of survival

Is measured out in Read more »

i.

Cracking hands,
Splintering bones and the
Rapture of war.

He raises the souls buried in snow.

ii.

Hollowing ribcage,
A saint's prayer and the
Quiet betrayal of his own mind.

He loses himself in the red.

iii.

Eyes like scarecrows,
Heavy is the cross on his arm and
Burdensome, unrelenting.

He withers in the wake of mortar-fire.

iv.

Curses kept close,
Steadying breath and the
Grave of innocence.

He bears a company of skeletons. Read more »

in the corner, by the heater.

place your ocean

let it fill the room, soak the

ceiling, bleed salt.

swim in your ocean.

no beach, don't worry about

sand in between your tired toes.

over there, by the bureau.

place your river.

let it fragment the room.

create a journey with your hands;

trace the ripples, trace

the tangles, feel the Read more »

I've wanted to write a poem about you for some time.

You, amazing, funny, intelligent

outgoing and accepting

( honorary) brother you are.

The only person to ever tell me

"This is a safe place,

as long as you don't tell me you rape kittens and leave their

bodies in rivers".

The person with whom

I wrote probably the oddest

story that will never be finished.

(It involved a giant monster falling in love with a girl Read more »

It wasn't all that long ago when I was holding a razor in my hands, considering. His fingers plucked it away, and at first I was scared; he wasn't exactly what you would call appealing. Then I got to know him. I realized that I had seen him around in various moment of my life. The one time that stands out the most is the accident. Read more »

I think it would be nice
to live with the stars
in the sky
and soar across on those
picture-perfect nights
and watch the world
carry on 
time by time.  

On these nights on the highway,
with the murmur of the guitar strums
and hums
persisting in the air,
the stars seem content
in their own place,
seldom tied up;
always, somehow,
gliding along.

Up there
exists an eerie silence, Read more »

"No more iPhones in the classroom!" shouted Mrs. Hacker. The simple sentence wreaked havoc among the seventh grade students. Joey threw a desk at Sally and launched his pencil in Jed's direction. Joey was known for being extremely malicious and had visited Principle Sperry several times due to his want to harm others. As if Joey's behavior wasn't unusual enough, the class was staring at Mrs. Hacker dejectedly. Sad, dissapointed looks were positioned on the students' faces.

"How could you not let us use our iPhones?" asked Meredith desperately. "I can't live without my iPhone! My life would be ruined!" She sulked in her chair, arms crossed.

"I'm sorry, Meredith, but ever since the release of the iPhone 5 all of you have been failing! The highest grade that any of you have in this class is a D-. Also, I know that you are on your phones during class; I see all of you on Instagram and Twitter all the time! It's unacceptable!" declared Mrs. Hacker solemnly, a look of seriousness swept unusually across her face. Read more »

If you ask anyone around me

I am that girl,

The goody-two-shoes Read more »

My parents and brother would constantly say

That life was a terrible bore

And as you get older your life starts to fade- Read more »

His lips move like a slicked up sewing machine

his lips move like a slicked up sewing machine and

he stiches his hands and my hands together with a 

click click click click click click click

I See You, i say

i see your lips your eyes

i see your coat pickets filled with buttons

and bobbins.

Don't mend me.

His lips move like a slicked up sewing machine.

His hips move like sawed up sediment

crumble crumble mumble mumble Read more »

Syncopated movements and slow motions,

Swallow me into a harmony of us.

In this world where you can replace the broken bits of me and let me hope for something good.

But you build me up, and tear me down.

I can't control myself, I want you, I can't have you.

You taunt me with your actions and trick me with your words, all with a smile on your face.

And I am just trying to move on but you keep pulling me back.

I'm suffocation in my pain and feeling the aches in you as well.

I am holding your weight and you don't even know it.

I could try to walk away but your slow motions memorize me. I want to stay.

The light touches my skin and yet darkness envelops deep within me. 

Is this what it's like to love you?

It's these simple questions that trick my mind and remind me to keep with the rhythm of reality.

It's dreams like this that keep me wanting to drown into a sea of sleep just to unearth such thoughts. 

It was here, and now it's gone,

A lovely maiden's sweetest song.

Like a shadow, dark as night,

But like a sunbeam, very light.

A quiet sound, as sweet as day.

A person answering "you may."

A sound that we all long to hear,

Although it comes but once a year.

A time for us to start anew,

Him, her, me, and you. Read more »

She is... a... superhero.

Like no one Earth has ever seen.

No! You say?

I am wrong?

Let me tell you,

You will see,

That I am right.

She is stronger than superman,

Faster than lightning,

Has a mind sharper than a genius,

And a will more powerful than 40,000.

She knows the meaning of laughter,

Runs to the pain of cries.

She is always there,

No matter the early day,

Or the middle of the night.

But you turn away,

My dear friend,

Exclaiming that I am crazy.

No such person exists in the real world,

These are characteristics of thise that belong in comic books.

Read more »

Drifting is a solitary thing, full,

brimming

with eyes never met, hands never shaken.

I remember the mirrors—

the reflections shunning my graces

because I stepped

far

too

lightly

to draw enough attention.

I wore no ribbons and bows helter-skelter,

 just because,  

spicing up,

dicing apart, heels on hardwood floors,

spacing steps with dancer’s precision, but there were never any

dancer genes in the atmosphere. Read more »

I saw her silhouette from across

a dilapidated barn

with decrepit wooden panels

in the corner of the city,

which, 

over time, 

became a diner

with cracked-leather bar stools

and a lingering coffee aroma.

When she turned,

she carried between her fore

and middle finger

an unlit cigarette,

yet never lit it 

within the hours 

I watched her.

She was young,

with signs of aging that 

delineated her 

face,

and a weariness in her

hazelnut eyes.

Hazelnut was the only 

way to describe 

them; Read more »