Some Writing. Cos I’m A Slacker.

September 30, 2011 § 1 Comment

She was a slow current. A tremble that moved from spin to spin from the people watching and wishing. It seemed like she wasn’t really what I wanted just what I wanted to want. I was sure she was a fragment. She was a run-on. But her hair and her eyes and her smile and her world seemed to claim a title that closed out the others: beautiful.

*   *   *

He liked to claim dislike because it was something easy enough for him to do. Hate. It wasn’t hard. Love might be. But hate was easy enough.

*   *   *

The wall is so blank now that it’s hard to remember that it ever wasn’t. In fact it’s hard to think at all. And for a second I don’t. And I live in that thoughtless colorless lovely little oblivion for just a minute.

 *   *   *

She found poetry in keys. In songs. In font so small the world seemed to only be a speck even if you wrote it all out. It was all poetry through those organic titanic silver blue eyes.

 *   *   *

It was like she saw everything through colored sea glass in front of her eyes. Like she lived in shards of a bottle too broken to put back together. She was dawn and twilight and all words that have lost such meanings. She was a color only mice can see.

 *   *   *

He seemed to feel the music through all of the empty squares in his heart the other things didn’t touch. Like it was all a rusty orangey yellow that seemed to be loud enough for an entire world to pause, and then carry on. And he was caught in the middle of it all. Smiling.

 *   *   *

Pour the picture. Pitcher.  Orange juice from a blue plastic. It made a brown that was separate enough to know what each color really made it. It was.

 *   *   *

She finally had to make the computer stop underlining the sentences that weren’t complete. It just was her way. It told her no. She told them no back. But the computer didn’t reply.

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