Jun 20

i'm in my basement

Jun 18

Out n About

Jun 14

A Song, an Awakening - I

Illion was ready. 
There was no reason why he wouldn't be - it was just that monthly event that he'd been training for since he was young. No biggie, nothing special.
He laid down on his bed, staring at the ceiling above him. The window was open, bringing in fresh air that he'd come to miss in only a few minutes. He sighed, closing his eyes as he breathed it in.
"Ill?" A voice, softly calling him, shook him somewhat. He hadn't realized he'd been about to fall asleep.
"Yes, Estada?" He sat up, grabbing a cup from his bedside table and sipping from it. Oils.
His little sister entered the room, closing the door behind her as she did. It shut with a soft click. "Are you nervous, Ill?"
"Not at all." Despite his reassurance, he fidgetted as he always did. "How are your studies?"
Estada's hair was a blond mess, but her eyes were focused. "They're going alright, but I really dislike history. I just don't get why any of it happened."
Jun 14

character ideas

hey ywp, 
i'm just gonna throw a copy-and-pasted blurb from my google keep here. i hope to write it soon.

Illion - A gifted singer, one who performs the rituals required, unbeknownst to him.
He's blindfolded during the rituals and is only required to sing, to summon Madeora
He's kept without knowledge of what actually happens.
Aligned with Omertà, and doesn't know what Omertà really is.
Speaks softly and hates violence & blood. Physically weak & kept sheltered. 17.

Madeora - the slumbering beast who is awakened only to feed. Should she not be fed, she will wreak destruction upon the earth. A singer is required to awaken her from her sleep to feed - if awoken without a singer, she will be consumed with rage & endeavor to mutilate those that dared awaken her. She will only rest when presented with a suitable sacrifice and lulled to sleep. Eternal.
Jun 14

red

it's a red amish wagon.
the wheels, deflated and nearly falling off
squeaking when forced to move
the long metal handle, 
stuck with rust 

they're not fence posts, exactly
but they serve as the sides to the wagon
slatted, and they can be removed
i remember pulling my sisters in it
up and down my driveway

i think i'll refill the tires when i get home.
Jun 14

You've been struck by

a single crack that lights up the sky
you look, and the sky has torn itself open
the loud boom of the second strike, 
only seconds after the crack

something falls. you don't know what
rain is like her brothers now, hitting with a punch
splat splat splat
onto windows and windshields

there's a loud crash as another tree hits the ground
the swish of it's branches, the smack of the trunk
there's a car alarm going of somewhere
beeeeep beeeep beeeeep

the news channel warned that this was going to be a strong one
there's a flash, striking a power cable
your road is dark. 
the rain, unrelenting

someone's dog won't shut up
bark bark bark 
another tree falls onto the road
the screech of tires to avoid the obstacle

and all you do
sitting on your porch, looking at the sky
Jun 14

Pulling Down

My act of courage?

I don't think myself a courageous person, but I think the most courageous thing I've ever done is convincing myself that I need to get better.
I'm not as good with words as some others here, but please bear with me.

I've always struggled with terrible thoughts. It was hard getting up in the morning sometimes. I couldn't drive myself to do anything.
I always thought myself incapable of love, unable to reach out and form connections. 
That's something I believed would never change.

But one night, one that feels like so long ago, I decided I would change.

I got a weight loss app. I started saying hi to people and starting conversations with people I didn't know.
I started trying harder in school. My grades went up. My teachers like me.
I haven't done anything to myself in so long, despite the fact that the thoughts do come back sometimes.
Jun 14

Deja Vu

preschool smelled like the open ground and grassy knolls. how do i remember? i don't. all i can do is look through my memories and try to recall everything. 
now, when the wind blows in my face and i'm at peace, i close my eyes and i'm four again, happy and smiling.

fifth grade was loud and noisy, and everything smelled like expired pudding cups and salty tears. the lunch monitors were strict; i remember crying several times during lunch. 
i was always a sensitive child, and that's okay, i think. 

eighth grade had the essence of pokemon cards hidden in sleeves to hide from the lunch ladies, hardly cooked chicken nuggets, and hot dogs that still had soap on them. 
it was easier back then.

now, i don't have a lunch period. the cafeteria smells like vape pods and cinnamon sticks, with a touch of axe body spray. the boys could never hold back.
Jun 05

Flor

Apr 03

Expiration Date

these days pass so quietly
with the wind, the rain, and slush
and here we stay so silently
every word hushed

that vengeful breeze
the antithesis of all
marches with grace
shouts with care

the enlightened rain
personified as a crying woman
holds her sobs at bay
as much as she can

the thick slush,
a synechdoche of what remains
of father winter's wrath 
and kindness

the oft-written of weather
can never be described
too much for it
to seem boring.

we'll stay.
humanity.
until it's all gone
due to us.

or we will 
end ourselves 
and everything else, too
before the earth expires.

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