7.4.24

 Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have my face crunched down into cold, white earth. What the taste of ice and blood would be like mixed together on my already acidic tongue.  Metallic. Lingering. Thick. If I'd find it in me to get up.  Blister out one more round despite it all. Or if I'd finally stay down. Drift off with the wind. Disappear into the quiet. 
3 comments

Beige is Boring Acrostic (Archive)

Beige is boring, bland, and barren,

Evoking comfort for those who won't be darin'.

It's found all over, in presets and filters,

Garnered by those who can't take pictures.

Everyone knows it's where life goes to die --

 

Is it really that wrong to want a little color to hit my eye?

So take care to remember what next I say,

 

Beige is lackluster, dated, and cliche.

Originality has fled with your nude monochromatic,

Releasing instead emotions quite problematic.

I ask you again, what's so amiss with one being vivid?

No sense in neglecting the colors we've been gifted,

Glowing bright pallets are much less restrictive.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Mad Hatter (Archive)

I don't want to be filled to this capacity -- it's a god damn travesty. Spent two years finding insanity. "Crumpet and tea?" My mind keeps going back and forth with rubber-band-like elasticity. Feels like I'm being shocked with electricity. "Crumpet and tea?" "Crumpet and tea?" It's just the Mad Hatter and me.
Read more

Journals (Archive)

Please don't open us up for all the world to see. She isn't yet ready for the way her heart would bleed. We contain all of her memories, those both joyous and filled with treachery. Her capricious handwriting reflects her emotions, devoted to writing about all her life's commotions. In our pages, we have secrets -- a decade long archive of personal leaflets. We are filled to the brim with paper ephemera, from tickets to wrappers and even a smudge of mascara -- most of which now seems like it's from a different era. And she's told us stories that no one else knows, to this day, we're very proud of the way she grows. She's been through a lot, but so have we, surviving moving and fires and anything that can be. So please don't open us up for all the world to see. She's not quite ready to spill the tea.
Read more

7.4.24

 Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have my face crunched down into cold, white earth. What the taste of ice and blood would be like mixed together on my already acidic tongue.  Metallic. Lingering. Thick. If I'd find it in me to get up.  Blister out one more round despite it all. Or if I'd finally stay down. Drift off with the wind. Disappear into the quiet. 
Read more