Sep 04
fiction 2 comments challenge: Hazel

hazel's house

this is my horror screenplay! i wrote it with the intention of making something my friends and i could shoot that would be fun and mildly scary, not a transcendent work of art, so i'm aware that the plot isn't perfect, but... yes. this is a thing. enjoy? 
Aug 29

the attic

i dreamed of the attic again last night. 
it's always the same. i'm lying awake, in the dark, and i can't move. and i know, on some level, that what i'm seeing isn't real but it feels real. and i'm afraid. i want to close my eyes, but somehow i know that it'll be worse if i do. and i always know where to look. 
so as i'm lying there, in the dark, i don't want to look over there. i know what i'll see, and i know that it always ends the same way but i'm still afraid. yet still, my eyes are pulled over towards the attic door and i watch. i don't need to blink. maybe it's because i'm not really awake, maybe my eyes are closed and imagining this or maybe i've briefly, just briefly, fallen into a different world. i don't know. i have no explanation for this. i just watch. 
Aug 14

things i don't know

i ate a peach today. 
the fuzz was rough and prickly
and i hated the feel of it on my lips and tongue. 
the hair on my arms stood on end with every bite
a nervous system in silent protest
but the taste was okay and i needed food
so i ate it. 
later i told my mother how unpleasant it felt to eat that peach and she said,
it's good for you to expand your sensory horizons

and i said nothing
because i didn't know what i was supposed to say. 
like i like to think i do the things i do
and avoid the things i avoid because it honestly helps me
like i know i get dizzy in crowds
and certain textures of food literally trigger my gag reflex 
and i take those seriously because they're physical reactions to things that others don't have physical reactions to
but like
what if i'm just sensitive because i never go in crowds or eat gooey and chalky foods? 
Jul 19


sometimes my brain and my body
don't listen to each other. 
sometimes on the most innocuous of days, 
my body gets a message from my brain and mixes it up
and adrenaline starts to pump
even as i'm sitting doing nothing. 
sometimes my heart rate starts to spike
and my chest rattles and throbs
with the weight of senseless panic. 
sometimes i close my eyes and breathe slowly
like maybe my body will listen to itself
even if it doesn't understand my brain
but the stiller i sit and the slower i breathe
the more space there is to feel the runaway heart inside my ribs. 
vibrating and thumping as if something is horribly wrong. 
sometimes tangibly accelerating.
sometimes i want to cry
because there is nothing i can to do stop this feeling
except wait for it to go away. 
sometimes i lie awake at three in the morning
breathing as slowly as i can, 
reciting poetry with my eyes closed
Jul 02

Last year

i remember england. 
mostly right now i remember my dormitory: 
a little place with an insufficient fan, 
blackout curtains that opened onto a courtyard
and when the sun was out it was too hot to keep them closed
and when it rained the raindrops ran down the windowpanes and it looked like music. 
i remember wandering the streets, hungry and uncomfortable, 
before giving up and buying dinner from the grocery store down the street
and eating it with a stolen fork while watching doctor who in my room. 
i remember waking up early every morning and sneaking to the showers. 
i remember the smell of the restrooms
and speaking out dialogue to no one from writing projects in a bathroom stall at eleven at night to see if it sounded any good. 
i remember sunburn and subway rides and london pride--
the simultaneous exhileration and alienation of being surrounded by people flaunting an aspect of themselves
Apr 02


it had been an early morning that we left nobber--getting up in the dawn that felt like it should be blue but was instead already tinged gold by the premature sun, packing up our things and brushing teeth in a hurry only to undo all that work when we made our breakfast out of pastries and coffee from a roadside station. we crept out past the cows and got in our car, a vehicle much too small to hold the five of us and our luggage, and drove towards dublin as the world woke up. 
Mar 20

A smell

There's a smell the world gets
especially inside my house
when the temperatures rise and the snow melts
and the ground starts to breathe
and our windows get cracked open for the first time. 
It feels like the earth's rotation is starting again
after months of frozen stasis. 
It feels like the house breathes again
after months of clinical silence. 
It smells like a whole world exists beyond our windows. 
It feels like a weight lifted off my chest, 
the weight of not shivering, 
of instead breathing and finding the whole world before me, 
like putting on happy music because it fades back and brings me peace.
And I don't usually like happy music.
It smells like pain,
and every time I properly notice it, 
it frightens me.
It smells like darkness,
and the first time I smell it I try to remember
but it always slips away. 
It smells like something I can't control,
Mar 06

dark roads

the world's shields come down at night. 
in the day when you drive down the road, 
everyone's walls are up,
sealed-off lives passing each other
never intersecting. 
when dark falls the walls fall down
and as you drive you can see little bursts of their lives
other existences that'll never be yours
letting off a faint yellow light as you pass by
and disappear
Feb 13

ink deity

they tell me to separate the artist
from the art
to better take criticism. 

get distance,
they tell me,
you are not your writing. 

but you don't understand
i tell them as i unzip
my skin,

i am. 

and i let them see
that the only thing flowing in my veins is ink
and garbled music. 

let them see my heart pumping too fast,
spitting words out to my arteries
and fueling the great typewriter of my mind.  

let them see my lungs compressed 
a printing press which has forgotten its job. 

let them see that all i am is words. 

let them look for some kind of a glimmer of a person hiding
underneath the words
let them look behind my eyes
but they find only a cinema where my retinas should be
translating the experiences my body passes through
into grainy oversimple
Feb 04

my face

i do not wear this face
because society wants me to. 
if anything, 
i persist in wearing the face i do
because society did not ask me to. 
i do not wear this face because i think it makes me more beautiful. 
i wear this face because it makes me striking, 
and slightly off-kilter. 
i wear this face because it affects how the world sees me
and i like the way they treat me
i wear this face because it brings me confidence. 
i wear this face because it is distinctive. 
i wear this face because it reflects me better,
i think, 
than any other face would. 
but i do not know if this face reflects who i am. 
i do not know if it should. 
i do not know if it is even possible to. 
i know that it reflects me better 
than layers and layers of eyeshadow almost the precise color of my skin
to make my eyes look bigger 
to change me into the model