Isn't it wonderful when a story springs and spins and is spun until it spans out all around you? Midnight searching for a life to be lived in the even breaths between words and lulled into a sunshine haze. Strolling by the narrator's side, I did not see the violent bend ahead through the rough part of town, where the ivy steals your shadow, whispering as if plotting to pour the pavement a glassful of your sanguine blood, create cakes of grime and empty souls screaming, your bones ground into powdered sugar to finish it all off. I could not tell whether we would make it out this time, but the thrall of the letters had already held me captive in the chromebook's white light, your hand gripping mine as our white knuckles grasped one another in a clammy embrace. No, I would not leave you here.
The world is temporarily closed or at least, the world as I know it. On the news, I hear of a world still open, open to a careful reemerging from their bunkers.
So you say the world is temporarily closed due to COVID, or due to ignorance? I've seen people saying it's their right to not do their part in this battle. The sheer stupidity has cost lives, but for you, are they just ever-growing numbers on a screen? Because what are mere pawns when you are king?
The world is temporarily closed but mine may not be "temporary" if we move to an open one for the sake of living outside of this bubble they keep popping. I know I will never be the same again because a year in a life is all it takes to crush the bones of my soul and rearrange my lost shards some new way.
The world is temporarily closed but is that any excuse to close your mind,
the spiders spin you webs to veil your eyes and afford you silk dresses and a throne of silver you thought you were their queen but don't you know spiders? my darling, they will crown you with a diadem of venom a prisoner in her own throne close your eyes they whisper sweetly as they suck your youth from your cherry blossom cheeks and eat your dumpling soft skin mouth dancing with savoury strawberries look at your fine silk gown can't you see it's your chains? think of their saccharine words can't you see it's the guillotine poised over your regal neck? look at you, my sweet they will vanquish your ever lasting beauty you are stuck in their web of lies if only you would simply open your eyes
shattering the starry sky in all it’s silent glory the idle conversation of the evening birds up too late and the cricket’s dying symphony hushes as i wait for the sparks and the fiery smoke that flit off the edges of ignorant happiness to appear on the horizon of rooftops and streetlights although, 1:06 is an odd time for fireworks
I instinctively clutch my blanket closer seeing a midnight gun glinting with moonlight and the metallic bite of a bullet as it launches embedding itself in the space just above her collarbone slumping onto the gray shadows that rush like vultures gathering ‘round in a prayer circle to feast on her dying soul while the maniac in black grins, polishing their solid death with bubblegum surgeon gloves without a single smear of crimson tossing it on her bloodless cheekbones the satisfying crack skittering up their spine
Because I want to create lives and experience the soft murmur of lovely description scrunch between my toes the lightning of raw truth condensed into the same letters as the rigid flexibility of plot weaving so seamless they don't realize they're crying til the tears have blotted the page the pure pride radiating heart thumping on the page when it's alive
So, why do I write?
Long story short, I write because I can and some days, when there's a rainbow adorned with clovers shining over my head, because I need to Because it is my right as a writer it is a part of what I am Just one of those things that isn't why or how, writing simply is
a fallen angel broken wings folded around the shards of the hell that clung to her emerging scales she plummeted toward the earth and you didn’t care so she pummelled the ground and you let the ground pummell her the once brilliant feathers so white you saw rainbows dyed by the ink of tears she wasn’t supposed to be able to cry but her eyes know now they shimmer like brunt diamonds their swords poised with betrayal and hate taken from the curvature of her ribs filled with everything you let her do to herself you promised you wouldn’t one at your head at your heart, your throat and sharpened by years of denial but just as you closed your eyes the metallic tang already filling your mouth ruby sparkling on the tip of her tongue they metal strikes, impales soft flesh and you open your eyes to see the rubies crown her queen before she slumps on the ground
Summer heat has hit curdling languishing laughter into a relentless aura of inward hostility Huffs and annoyed sighs between words shaved down to the bone the vain sun's long gone but the heat has seeped into the floorboards like poison ivy creeping up dinner chairs slipping in the pulsing veins on my neck sucking all the love out of even My Little Pony that yammers ebulliently on the TV screen brittle patience cracks, sparks flying off my tips one catches on a loaded grenade fracturing the evening cool let's hope as we take out the trash the attitudes go too