There was blood on my pillow. "Oh, snap." i said. so last night wasn't really a dream, then. i actually did it. oh, well, that changes things entirely, then, doesn't it? He's really... crap."i held it... i-i did it." i said to no one in particular. i looked at my palm. it was still wet and sticky with blood. Not my blood. Honestly, did you really... no. his blood. I turn over, and with a jolt, realize the knife is sitting on my bedside table. my stomach heaved. i swung my legs out of bed and grabbed the knife, shuddering...
She didn't look at him. She couldn't. "Look at me!" he shouted. She didn't. She couldn't.
She did.
Then she did again.
This went on for several hours.
"Stop looking at me!" he shouted. But she didn't not look at him. She couldn't not.
Then she didn't.
He was always looking at her. It was a condition called Iseezyaz, which causes the poor soul to stare at the person closest to them for all of infinite eternity. "It is perhaps the most unsettling, and boring disease known to mankind," Dr. Jesus Katmandu, discoverer of the disease had said upon the...
Fault.
It wasn't mine. Maybe I lost the idea of whose fault it was when the map flew over the side of the ferry. Yes, it started to rain, and yes, it was I who had forgotten the umbrella at home, but it didn't matter, Damn it. We were going to have an excellent time, through no fault of my own.
The day went off as uneventful. We disembarked, walked along the road through town to a nice shanty-like restaurant on the water. We could look out over the marina and the moored vessels and smell the brine and brackish...
I never liked autumn leaves as you do. I watched you look at trees, the delight on your face intensified when you closed your eyes and hugged the trunk. You once asked if I had a red ribbon for the pine cone you plucked, it would complete the winter bliss of the photograph you wanted to take. My purse always had what you needed, from floss to batteries, and candies to pain pills, and a red ribbon was procured.
Spring had you enjoying cherry blossoms. Summer had you enjoying shade. Autumn had you enjoying the gold and copper, the natural...
"But do you love me?"
Love? What is love? Love is a social construct. Love is an excuse to screw someone you think is hot. Love is a joke, a trap, an illusion. Love is what you wish for when you don't know how the world really works.
I see your skin and I think of you naked, wish for you to fall into my arms so I can possess you. Part of me wants you now, part of me wants you always.
There's only a limited extent to which these parts overlap.
Lust after you, to be sure. Like...
My sleep was disturbed. I hadn't eaten after a long day trekking across the desert. Weak and faint I lay down and fell into a troubled sleep where images of food flitted through my dreams.
I hungered to eat and in lucid cravings ate all that flew towards me. My hunger so intense now I turned upon myself. I can eat myself I thought, then I will live and tomorrow I can begin again.
I felt my hot breath on my head as my mouth turned upon myself...my wet tongue licked the side of my face as though anticipating...then in...
She held the letter, tears flowing down her face. Somehow she'd known it would always come to this. That no matter how hard she tried to steer him in the right direction, he was bound and determined to go his own way, like a shopping cart with a busted wheel.
The letter was short and to the point, mostly complaining about the food. Thankfully, he wasn't hurt, though he was thrown into solitary once for fighting.
As she re-read the letter, she sobbed, for she too was confined in a prison not of her choosing.
The blue sun gave off a cold light. The snow seemed to boil under its glare while the trees darkened at their core and whitened at their tips. In the distance I saw a small stall and it gave me pause. I looked over to my partner and he looked back at me, mirroring my confusion. As we drew closer I was convinced that hunger hallucinations had taken complete control. Nothing made sense but this stall made the least sense of all.
But at the first taste of that sweet aching cold I knew that this was real. Out in...
Here I am. Again. For the fifth time this week. Laying on my bed. Depressed. I don't know what to do. I hear my mum making dinner downstairs and my dad clicking away on his keyboard. I hear Sarah playing with her dolls and Jordan on his Xbox. I haven't come out of my room since Tuesday, I haven't said Good Morning or Good night to my parents since Tuesday or played dolls with Sarah since Tuesday, I haven't even been to school in 2 years. Depression is something else. Some people can deal with it, some can't. I am...
Water, water, everywhere...
Betty woke up on the cracked desert ground, lips parted, straining to take in every bit of moisture from the air. Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, coated with she knew not what.
Her dream had held water, more than she could imagine. She'd sailed on blue waves, dived in billowing surf, lain on her back and watched the pillowy clouds float on currents of air through azure skies.
Yet all the boards did shrink...
Her feet had burned from the heat of the wooden planks keeping her small skiff together. The ocean itself...