those _things_ are always loudest when i’m on the brink of sleep. i hear them through the grate of the window, the cold iron criss-cross pattern vibrating as they screech and scratch. one of them sticks a long and thorny finger through the inch-wide hole.

how many times before they learn? the creature tries to pull its finger back, too late. the hooked thorns, easy to stick in but impossible to ...

I’m often told that death is just another part of life. Another fragment, another puzzle piece, another brick in the wall.

“You can’t escape it!” they yell.

“You can’t hide from death!” they shriek.

I rest in the graveyard, gazing at her tombstone, those hateful, disgusting words carved in a rock slab, meant to label and describe her forever.

The people yell and claw at the gate behind me, ...

quarter-to-four and the rain had already started.

of course, it was merely a light sprinkle, but the forecast this morning said that it would only begin around five o’clock, and by then i had planned to be on the four-thirty train out of this hellhole.

the wind picked up, and i almost lost my hat several times as i marched down the streets of new york city towards grand central station. i watche...

what color is your soul?

well, if you were to take into account the whole

i think you’d think you’re out of your mind

or swishing your brain in a goldfish bowl

i guess your capacity is that of a mole.

what hue are you?

well, it’s definitely more than two

because your spirit’s color is not singular,

rather, a mash of them, hundreds, it’s true!

tens and thousands, purple, red, green, blue.

...

love, huh?

what a funny thing. the fact that you can enjoy the presence of something or someone to such an amount is.. interesting.

unrequited.

what’s the opinion on that?

look at the sun. she’s so _beautiful! _she’s so _bright! _how could you live without her?

i’m sure the moon agrees. look at him, he _shines_ because of her. he _glows_ because of her. look, he rotates around her, even i...

sometimes i wonder if we’ve been lied to

and the sky is really just a giant painting

and that plane isn’t actually moving

it’s simply pinned up there, tiny,

and the people are little stick figures

and if i could fly

i would soar higher and higher,

until my hands grazed the sky

and it’d be a giant watercolor canvas....

they say that you’re more spiritually open when you’re in a state between sleep and wakefulness. they say that if you are careless enough, if you’re in a place that allows.. other things, then you just _might_ be visited by someone you didn’t invite.

is what they say true? are these tales, passed orally from person to person, generation to generation, something to be really wary of?

you have to...

(this is a companion to my other story “peeling potatoes.” you can still understand this story if you haven’t read the other one.)

this was an absolute disaster. the house was a mess, the dinner was half ready, and the rain was pounding down on the roof of my little cottage relentlessly.

oh, and another thing i forgot to add: my neighbor could be here any minute.

i didn’t _want_ to, i ...

my wings help me soar

my wings keep me up

but my wings can be a burden

my wings are gorgeous

my wings are dazzling

but my wings can be unappealing

the wing called george

george is bouncy and powerful

george is colorful, never dull

george is heavy and finnicky

george is unstable and easy to sprain

the wing called chris

chris is strong and reliable

chris is fun and easy, flowy

chris is ha...

a wound

opening

gaping

bleeding

help!!

it’s

b l e e d i n g

and i cry. and i weep. and my tears form pools by my knees, and if you tried, you could slip.

and i don’t notice

your presence

also bleeding

you poor thing!

your heart is so wounded!

and so i sew it up

stitches that heal

and next time i sob,

you hold me

and

the scars on our hearts

are there

they are deep

b...