Writing Excercise #1
Sweetness lives on in the minds of those who are dead.
The minds of those who are dead cannot tell the future.
But you can.
Whatever this means for you, I am not sure. We will find out together or alone if that is your wish.
Trollops and bedbugs bite in the night.
My eyes are heavy, but I dare not close them. To sleep is to betray the day.
My day is long, not privy to the rise and fall of the sun and moon.
I lay awake, blood shooting up my eyes.
I cannot be blamed for my lack of peace if I am tired.
I do this to myself, afraid. Afraid of what?
Some phantom that haunted my crib in those first years which has since died.
What a blind fool I have become. No more.
Embrace sleep.
Stream of Consciousness Experiment. I'm so tired right now. I have an exam in the morning I have not studied for. I'm such a terrible student. I'll be blogging more regularly now that summer is here.
Brief Meeting on a Train
Empty suits on a train.
White dress nestled among them,
Hanging by fleshy appendage rather than wire.
Eye grabs eye for short moment,
Red lips purse into upward corner.
White teeth flash and thick brow rises in response.
Man forms in favored suit.
Newly created mind floats through possibilities;
Skin brushes against skin,
Soft word spoken into flattered ear,
Trip taken on road without destination,
Arm embraces waist beneath starry sky.
Foot steps forward confidently then hesitates.
Coy smile disappears inside disappointed frown.
Metal screeches against metal with high pitched squeal.
Dress floats out open door into bright sunlight.
Brief dream bubbles dissipate in the air.
Empty suits on a train.
Take a Picture
I was talking to an old friend recently. She was in love with this boy. Hearing her talk about him, he seemed like a cool guy. One of those people you'd like to be friends with. She talked about how he said all these things that at the time she didn't understand and could only appreciate later.
She was outside with him.
The sky was beautiful. It was the type of sky that only comes around every once in a while. When I think of it, I imagine a splash of purples and oranges. The clouds would be illuminated in such a way that the shadows would fully define their fluffy, irregular shape.
She saw that the sky was beautiful and wanted to keep it, put it in her pocket.
She exclaimed, "The Sky is so beautiful! Take a picture of it!"
He looked at her quizzically. "Whatever for?"
"So you can keep it and look at it later."
He shook his head, "No, I'm going to enjoy it right now. Taking a picture would only ruin it. When it's gone, it's gone."
She gave him a weird look, not understanding what he meant. He said a lot of strange things that she didn't understand.
Only later when he'd left, would she understand.
Blankets
Blankets thrown on a couch
lumps stir beneath
a foot here, an elbow there
giggles and shouts
"You're tickling me!"
"Get your foot out of my mouth!"
A bright red face emerges out into the open,
To gasp for air before diving back beneath the layers.
Knees and foreheads bump together.
Love is weird
Little Girl
I see you little girl,
Shrinking away from bright smiles and warm embraces.
The glint of suspicion in your eyes.
A pad of paper and pencil clutched to your breast.
A portal to imaginary friends,
the only kind to be trusted.
I know why you are afraid.
The sins of the father unjustly forced upon the daughter.
Will this cycle ever end?
Loneliness
EDIT: I feel a lot better now. I called up some friends and checked up on them. This feeling like all things passes in time and can be waylaid by showing a little initiative.
I feel lonely.
My roommate is laying down on the lower bunk beneath mine. He's on his computer reading. We stopped connecting a long time ago. We're just too different. An invisible Berlin Wall runs through the middle of our room, keeping us from speaking to each other. I want to paint graffiti on it and write nasty things.
I feel abandoned.
The medicinal laughter and knowing looks of a good friend are replaced with silence and the glow of a computer screen. It's always the same story. I let someone dig their hooks into me. Then a girl, work, or some new opportunity comes along and pulls them away, ripping fresh wounds into my skin. I stand there bleeding while they disappear off into the horizon.
I want to start over.
It's hard to start over in the same place. Everything is a reminder of the past. When I'm in a familiar place, I can see the ghostly images of the past overlaying the present. People that are no longer here running around campus in transient forms.
There's a party outside.
I can hear laughter and music. Why am I such a wet blanket? Why does it seem to be inherent to my nature? I wish I was not so negative.
I need a hug.
I Killed Peter Pan
It had to be done.
His elfish charms waylaid me from my task for far too long.
For a time he seemed to make me fly.
It was magical.
I soared above the clouds, flying loop-de-loops and figure eights.
Then something happened.
My strength began to drain.
His weight pulled me towards the waves, threatening to engulf me.
I looked down into his frightened eyes.
He knew what was to be done.
Without pity I cut the rope binding him to me, hurling his helpless body into the sea.
I soared away into the unknown.
Where true adventure waits.
Yet a part of me can't help and look back, wondering if maybe I couldn't have taken him along for the ride.
Work in Progress
This is what I have done so far on my short story that I'm working on. It's kind of aimless and was really more of an excercise to get me writing again, but I hope to finish it also. The general consensus seems to be that I could add some more characterization into it. I'm hoping that I'll be able to have accomplished that goal once it's finished. Tell me what you think and don't worry about hurting my feelings, I can take it.